


Older and Taller

by cokebottlesanddenim



Category: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But the conspiracy goes deeper than we could have ever imagined, Diverges A LOT after yr 5 ch 22, Gen, Jam City was taking too long to give me interesting plot so i took matters in my own hands, Multi, Rakepick is not evil, Relationships arent SUPER prominent in this story but they exist or are partially developed, Slow Burn, also for this arc at least everyone fucking lives, i'll note at the beginning of chapters for potentially upsetting content, jc can choke for what they've done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 100,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cokebottlesanddenim/pseuds/cokebottlesanddenim
Summary: Ophelia Fawley is starting her 6th year at Hogwarts with the weight of the world on her shoulders. The portrait curse hasn't been broken yet, Rakepick has returned to her career and abandoned the cause, and an indeterminate future looms over everyone's head. Ophelia will stop at nothing to rescue her brother, but the deeper she delves into the R conspiracy, the more dangerous her life will become. Jacob had better be worth it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. Summer Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes I'm overcome  
>  By every choice I couldn't outrun  
> The junctions all disappear  
> You can't double back to your summer years_

The Burrow was the best place to be for the summer, Ophelia Fawley decided, leaning on the bottom half of the dutch door that lead from the kitchen to the yard beyond. It was early in the morning, but the world outside was already awake. The blooming garden was buzzing with bees and rustling with gnomes. The sky was blue, and the sun gently warmed everything it touched. In the distance beyond the property, a small lake sparkled while nearby trees swayed lazily. The shrill cry of birds broke the otherwise serene silence, a perfect distraction from the unopened envelope clutched in her hands. The tawny owl that had delivered it was still perched next to her, its familiar large black eyes boring into her, as if it were just as anxious to know its contents as she was. Ophelia reached out a hand and scratched the owl’s head gently, letting it nibble at her fingers affectionately in response.

The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs behind her broke her from her reverie, an indication that she was no longer the only one awake in the house. Three redheaded boys rounded the corner and darted through the kitchen, disturbing Ophelia and the owl as they barreled through the door and into the yard.

“Fred, George, give it back!” the tallest of the three shouted angrily, his face so flushed that it threatened to disappear into his overgrown ginger hair. Identical cheshire grins flashed over the younger boys’ respective shoulders in response, trading off an unopened envelope between them as their brother tried and failed to catch them. No doubt, he had just received a similar letter to the one Ophelia was gripping to her chest.

“Oh George, can you imagine if Charles here got anything less than 12 O.W.L.S? Mum would have to disown him,” cackled one of the smaller boys, handing the envelope off to his twin as he dodged his older brother’s desperate grasp.

“Why Fred, I do believe that would be the disappointment of the century!” the other brother called back, managing to quickly duck two strong arms swiping at him. Charlie Weasley looked up at Ophelia, a silent plea for help on his face as his younger brothers danced around him, waving his examination results around his face but refusing to give them up. Ophelia help up the envelope containing her own results, showing the unbroken seal. She tried to offer an expression of sympathy, that her own results also lay in a state of academic limbo.

“Fred, George!” a voice called from immediately behind Ophelia. She hadn’t heard anyone else enter the room behind her. Ophelia turned to see the eldest Weasley brother call out to the yard, his expression one of unyieldingly stern disapproval. The twins’ heads turned, and in their distraction, Charlie managed to yank his envelope from Fred’s hand. The twins, recognizing the fun was over, scurried back into the house and up the stairs, leaving Ophelia, Charlie, and Bill standing at the doorway to the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Charlie grumbled to Bill, making his way to the dining table and sitting down. The envelope was a little bent out of shape from its excursion into the garden, but the wax seal that kept the contents a mystery was still intact. He turned to looked at Ophelia , a strain of worry darkening his usually carefree expression. “What if I didn’t get enough O.W.L.s? What if I didn’t get Care of Magical Creatures?” he asked in a low voice. “Fred and George are right, Bill got 12, I can’t compete with that.”

Ophelia offered an encouraging smile, fiddling mindlessly at the wax on her envelope. “Jacob got 12” she said, hoping she sounded helpful in some way. “You’re not the only one with an older brother whose legacy precedes you.”

“At least your brother isn’t breathing down your neck while you compare legacies” Charlie grumbled, jerking his head to gesture towards Bill, who was indeed hovering over him expectantly, but was visibly refraining from pressuring his brother into revealing his exam results.

More footsteps came from the stairwell, and Mrs. Weasley turned the corner into the room. She smiled warmly at Ophelia as she made her way to the stovetop and set the kettle. “Sorry Ophelia dear, I hope the boys didn’t wake you up” Mrs. Weasley said apologetically, gesturing towards the stairs where George and Fred and run back up a moment before with her free hand while her wand summoned several pans towards her.

“I was already up, no worries” Ophelia replied, trying to keep her voice chipper despite the anxiety that was gnawing away at her insides the longer she left her envelope unopened. “O.W.L. results arrived,” she added, tossing her letter onto the table next to Charlie’s as she took a seat next to him. Bill still stood over the two, practically buzzing with anticipation. Mrs. Weasley whipped around quickly, her wide eyes darting between the two sealed envelopes on the table.

“Both of yours? Well go on, open them!” she said excitedly, walking around the table to stand next to Bill so that she would be able to see the results over Ophelia and Charlie’s shoulders. Ophelia and Charlie both reached for their letters, carefully detaching the wax seal as slowly as possible. Ophelia could feel Mrs. Weasley nearly bouncing behind her, her eyes fixed on the letter in Charlie’s hands. Ophelia turned her attention to her own letter. She unfolded it gingerly, as if afraid that it might explode if mishandled. Silence fell throughout the kitchen, broken only by the sounds of unfolding parchment and the distant creaking of overhead floorboards as the 4 of them read through the results.

  


Ophelia let out a low breath that she hadn’t been aware she was holding. 10 O.W.L.s was a commendable feat, but a persistent little voice at the back of her brain kept chanting _Jacob got 12_. Whatever. Jacob wasn’t here. These were her results, and no one else’s.

“Your middle name’s ‘Cordeline’?” an incredulous voice at her ear asked cheekily, and Ophelia turned to see that the twins had stealthily reentered the room. George was hovering at her shoulder while Fred was situated at Charlie’s opposite shoulder, surprisingly close considering how unnoticed they had been.

“Your middle name’s ‘Septimus’??” Fred echoed from Charlie’s side, as if this was really news to him. Charlie glowered and batted away the young boys with his results. Charlie then turned to Ophelia, his own results held out to compare alongside her’s. He’d only gotten 8 O.W.L.s, although admittedly she’d taken one more subject than he had, and he had bested her in Care of Magical Creatures with an O. Not that that particular score had come at any surprise to her. There were no other Os on his results.

“10! That’s brilliant!” Bill said enthusiastically, clapping Ophelia on the back as he read through her results. “Rakepick’ll be pleased with that Defense Against the Dark Arts score” He added, pointing a long finger between the subject on the paper and the corresponding grade she had received. Ophelia flushed a little with pride while her attention strayed back to Charlie’s results. She had no idea how she had managed an O in potions (with credit to Penny where credit was due), although she was a little dismayed to see that Charlie hadn’t managed to score well enough to continue potions or history of magic with her.

More footsteps rang from the stairwell and soon they were joined by Mr. Weasley and Percy, who eyed the group at the table reading the open letters with a quizzical expression, before comprehension dawned on each of their faces. Mrs. Weasley made room at her side for her husband to read their son’s results, while Percy displaced Bill on Charlie’s other side, leaving Bill and Ophelia at the outskirts of the huddle. Mr. Weasley let out a stream of delighted gasps and proud murmurs, while Percy scoffed softly as his eyes darted down the page.

Ophelia reviewed her O.W.L.s yet again, experiencing simultaneous feelings of pride and frustration. She hadn’t received any failing scores, and she was grateful for that, but her scores and her memory of taking the exams reflected how close she had come to not passing Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic. Failing any of those would have cut short her aspirations of being a curse-breaker. _Jacob got 12_. Well Jacob was a stinking genius, wasn’t he…

In her peripheral vision she saw Bill sit at the table in the seat next to her. The tight-knit cluster in the kitchen had begun to disperse. Mrs. Weasley resumed breakfast preparation, Fred and George hurtled back up the narrow stairs, and Mr. Weasley continued to review Charlie’s scores with him while Percy hovered from the other side. Ophelia looked at Bill’s encouraging and proud smile, and for the first time since that morning she felt a true wave of relief. As Bill had said, she had gotten more than enough O.W.L.s to pursue a career in curse-breaking.

“8 O.W.L.S, that’s really great, son” Mr. Weasley reiterated, handing Charlie back his results before stepping further into the kitchen to help his wife with the cooking.

“I’m going to get 12, like Bill” Percy said to no one in particular, his voice dripping with unmerited smugness. When no one responded, he silently excused himself and followed Fred and George back up the stairs and out of sight. Ophelia couldn’t stop rereading her results, even though she was sure she could recite them from memory if she had to at this point. She felt like a heavy weight had been released from her chest, and up until now she had been having a hard time articulating exactly why this meant so much. O.W.L.s held the promise of a career and a future, and Ophelia had admittedly not given too much thought to a future beyond freeing Jacob from the 4th vault and then… well that was all she had really planned for, to be honest. She had clung to the idea of becoming a curse-breaker when she left school after constant encouragement from Patricia Rakepick and Bill. Even Professor Flitwick had offered encouragement and praise when she had sat for her career advice session last year. It felt like a natural progression, from cursed kid to curse breaker. With scores like these, at least she wouldn’t have to make other plans right now.

*

“Charlie, I’m really no good on a broom,” Ophelia insisted helplessly as Charlie pushed a weather-worn cleansweep into her hands. At the other end of the yard Fred and George were flying circles around a 9-year-old Ronald, who was swatting at them from his own shooting star. The training broom refused to climb higher than 10 feet, and its speed was no match for butterflies passing him in the wind.

“Rubbish, I’ve seen you in flying class, you’ve got your bearings about you” Charlie reassured her encouragingly. Before Ophelia could argue that she had required his assistance every single time they flew into the forbidden forest during their 4th year, Charlie had mounted his own broom and was rising to join an already airborne Bill. Side by side, Bill definitely did not look as comfortable on a broom as Charlie did, but Charlie had insisted that was what made the teams even. Fred and George were certainly talented enough to join the school team, as they both enthusiastically hoped to do, and Ron had been flying since he was 6. Unfortunately, his remarkably slow broom offset any experience and agility he possessed. Charlie had deemed that those 3 matched against Hogwarts’ brand-new Gryffindor quidditch captain and reigning seeker, yours truly, paired with 2 nerds who considered staying airborne to be a feat within itself, to be a fair lineup.

Ophelia grumbled and kicked off, taking a few wobbly laps around their end of the yard to refamiliarize herself with the feeling of flying. Her stomach lurched in protest, and it took all the core strength she had to not roll over sideways. She hadn’t taken a flying class in nearly 4 years, and she certainly never flew when she wasn’t at school. Charlie saying that she had her bearings about her was a liberal overstatement. She eventually settled herself in front of the single goal hoop on her side, playing the keeper’s position opposite Ron. Ideally, the less she had to move, the better. Young Ginny watched forlornly from the kitchen door, enviously eyeing her brothers as they flew and laughed around the yard. Ophelia would have gladly given her position up to Ginny if she weren’t so scared for the 7-year-old girl against several teenage boys.

Charlie swooped back down to the house, picking up an extremely worn leather ball from a trunk near the house. Without bludgers or a snitch, this game would effectively be a matter of keep-away and goal-scoring. Ophelia was grateful that she wouldn’t have to worry about bludgers trying to take her off her broom in addition to her own imbalance, but it did put more pressure on her a goalkeeper. With one graceful toss into the air and a broom mount so quick that Ophelia would have missed it if she had blinked, the 3-on-3 match commenced.

Watching the Weasleys fly together really contrasted how inexperienced she was on a broom; she refused to take even a single hand off her broom for more than a few seconds at a time and had subsequently let several easy goals past the solitary hoop she was supposed to be defending. To her team’s merit, quidditch prodigy Charlie was showing no mercy against his 9-year-old brother, and was making up for Ophelia’s deficiency in hoop defense by scoring goal after goal against his brothers. Between her useless hovering and Bill’s agile but overly-cautious flying, she was sure that Charlie could probably take on all of his brothers at once on his own and still win.

It was with an immense sigh of relief that Ophelia lowered herself to the ground as Mrs. Weasley called her family in for supper. She felt a little embarrassed for her poor performance in front of her close friends, but the Weasleys were all chatting happily amongst themselves as they gathered up the brooms and the old quaffle to put them away. It was apparent that the score had stopped mattering some time ago, and everything since then had just been showing off. Ophelia felt a small twang of jealously as she watched the brothers excitedly discuss their game.

She’d lived a fairly solitary life since Jacob had disappeared almost 7 years ago. Between her mother, who kept Ophelia and herself locked in the house most of the time out of paranoia, her cat Serafina, and the tawny owl she had unceremoniously inherited in Jacob’s absence, she was suddenly starkly aware of how unquestioningly isolated she had been almost all her life. It was a miracle that she had convinced her mother to spend the summer with the Weasleys at their home in the West Country, so far away from her home in London. She felt guilty knowing that while she and her mother had shared that isolation together in previous years, her mother now had to endure it alone.

“Were the boys playing too harshly against you, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked kindly as she set the table. She threw a preemptive warning glance at her sons as they took their seats around the table.

“No, Mrs. Weasley, I’m really just not great at flying. I’m just there to make them look better,” Ophelia laughed. Ginny looked up at her with a pout.

“I want to fly with them” she whined, looking pleadingly between her mother and her brothers with large brown eyes.

“Tell you what, Gin, when I leave then you can have my spot on our team” Bill said kindly, ruffling his sister’s hair. “Honestly, Charlie wouldn’t even notice if I left” he added, punching Charlie in the shoulder. Charlie shrugged in nonverbal agreement, which drew laughter from the table. Ophelia’s heart secretly sank a little. She kept forgetting that Bill would be leaving next week, effectively removing him from her life. She had managed to cling to their time together after his graduation from Hogwarts by staying with the Weasleys, but every passing day drew her closer to saying goodbye to Bill. She laughed with the rest of the family, but her smile reached neither her eyes nor her heart.

*

As much as Ophelia had tried desperately to make the most of her time with Bill before he left to pursue his promising career as a curse-breaker in Egypt, the week had managed to slip from her grasp, and before she knew it she found herself waking up only 12 hours before he had to report to Gringotts. From her position on the inflatable mattress in Ginny’s room on the 2nd floor, she could hear hustle and bustle in the rooms below, indicating she was among the last to wake up for the day. Ginny’s bed had long since been abandoned, and in the interim time had been re-occupied by a slumbering Seraphina.

Ophelia hauled herself from her covers and pulled on her clothes, groggy from sleep but alert with anxiety. The sun outside the open window was still relatively low in the sky, and Ophelia doubted it was much past 7 in the morning. It was an early start for the household on a weekend, but she had to remind herself that she wasn’t the only one saying goodbye to Bill today.

The kitchen was crowded with breakfast eaters, and a quick headcount confirmed that Ophelia had indeed been the last to come downstairs that morning. Bill was sitting in the center on one long side of the table, answering a barrage of questions from his youngest siblings. She had barely taken her seat between Percy and Charlie when a plate of eggs and toast was slid directly in front of her. She gave a quiet thanks before she began to nibble numbly on her toast, her eyes blindly fixed on an animated Bill and his excitable brothers. She could hear snatches of conversation about ancient Egyptian monsters and cursed mummies, but everything in between sailed through her consciousness without leaving a mark. What could she even do or say today that would be a worthy goodbye to her best friend, mentor, and, honestly, her surrogate brother? If she drew it out for too long it would be too hard to finally see him off, but if she was too aloof and unemotional then he may leave with a negative sentiment.

“You alright, ‘Lia?” Charlie asked in a low voice with a mouth full of toast, nudging her gently. Charlie must have noticed that her mouth was moving over the same spot of toast without actually consuming any, while her had eyes glazed over completely. Ophelia blinked several times and furrowed her brow. No one else had noticed her distracted state in between all the nonstop movement and chaos that always occupied The Burrow. What she really needed was some time to speak with Bill alone, but as difficult as that had proved for the last week, it would surely be night impossible on the day he was actually supposed to leave. She quickly made a decision and subtly turned towards Charlie.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Ophelia replied in an equally quiet voice before shoveling most of the eggs into her mouth quickly and sweeping the uneaten toast into her hand under the table. “Could you please tell Bill to come find me when he gets a chance?” Charlie’s own brow furrowed in a mix of concern and confusion, but he nodded shortly and quickly turned to draw his father’s attention, giving Ophelia the opportunity to slip out unnoticed.

The garden was much quieter than the kitchen, the mixed conversations quickly lost beyond the half-open kitchen doorway. Ophelia treaded through the grass, the fresh blades feeling cool and soft between her bare toes. Breakfast resumed in the house behind her, unaware of her absence. Ophelia was incredibly grateful that Charlie was an observant friend, and a loyal one on top of that. She was sure that if Charlie wasn’t able to get Bill out to see her in a timely manner, then he would come outside to find her himself.

Once she had moved past the garden, she knew she would be out of the line of sight of the kitchen, and from there she began to walk towards the trees that were scattered across the softly rolling hills. At the edge of the property was an especially old and proud-looking oak tree. From one of its stronger branches hung a swinging bench. Ophelia knew from her time with the Weasleys that this tree was favorable for climbing with siblings, but also just as satisfactory for sitting under quietly for long stretches of time just to enjoy the peace. She settled herself on the swinging bench and resumed munching on her swiped toast. Despite it still being relatively early in the morning, the day was warm around her, and the weather was promising to stay idyllic for weeks to come. It was a sharp contrast to the summers she had spent at home with her mother, inside the small apartment they had shared since leaving their house, answering the door with a wand in hand and a security question every single time. She had never resented her mother for her paranoia and overprotectiveness, because in Ophelia’s eyes it was a reasonable response to the trauma she had endured. Nevertheless, that didn’t make it any more enjoyable. This had probably been the first summer in years, if not ever, that she had felt both unrestrained and safe.

Barely 10 minutes had passed before the soft sound of footfalls through the grass told her that Bill had come to join her. Ophelia smiled at him, a little surprised that Bill had actually detached himself from his family to come.

“Your squire Charles sent for me?” Bill said in a pompous tone reminiscent of the Gryffindor ghost. Ophelia laughed and scooted down to the end of the bench, making a spot for Bill to occupy.

“It seemed better than asking for your time in front of your family” Ophelia responded with a shrug. She had really just wanted one last good old-fashioned heart to heart with him before he ran away to another continent to be wildly successful and handsome there instead of here, where she needed him to be. If she had been more blunt with her intentions at the breakfast table, she feared she would have to endure questions and teasing from the younger ones. Even though her intentions were pure and her feelings platonic, she didn’t feel like explaining herself to anyone. Bill sat at the other end of the bench, kicking his feet slightly so the bench swayed softly. They sat in comfortable quiet for a minute. Ophelia wished she could have hours of just this, but Bill’s time was valuable today of all days, and she didn’t have the luxury to spend any of it in silence.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Ophelia said. It was much more direct and admittedly louder than she had thought it would sound in her mind, and it hung in the air between them for a minute before Bill sighed.

“It’s my dream job, and it’s exciting and challenging and pays really well. I couldn’t have asked for more from Rakepick, and I’m lucky to have this opportunity” Bill said, trying to make the truth as painless as possible. Leaving his family, which was large and close-knit and also conveniently concentrated in the West Country, was one of the harder aspects of taking the job in Egypt. Ophelia was like a sister to him, which meant that leaving her was no different. Ophelia hummed noncommittally as she looked straight ahead, offering neither agreement nor argument. “I’ll visit when I can during holidays, it’s not like I’m leaving forever” Bill continued, but Ophelia still gazed ahead as if she couldn’t hear him. Bill frowned. “What did you wanted to talk about then?” Ophelia finally turned her head to face him, her bright blue eyes meeting his.

“Do you remember at the end of 3rd year, when I was that inconsolable sobbing mess and I didn’t want to talk about it, and you and everyone just thought it was from overexposure to boggarts?” Ophelia asked. Bill nodded slowly. “It wasn’t the boggarts” Ophelia said, biting the inside of her lip. “I was sad because my prefect Chester was leaving.” This was obviously news to Bill, and his expression changed from apologetic to bewildered. He’d had no idea Ophelia and her prefect had been that close. He had certainly never been that close to his first prefect.

“He was like a brother to me, or at least what I thought I was missing without a brother,” Ophelia turned away from Bill again, trying to keep her voice steady but not trusting her own eyes to not tear up as she went on. “I would act up, he would tell me off. I would ask for guidance, he would genuinely and eagerly help however he could. I annoyed him just by being a dumb kid, and he put up with me over and over again. He saw potential in me really early on, and he even tutored me so that I would be ready to become a prefect after he left. I never told him that I appreciated it so much. I don’t think I recognized how I felt until after he left.” Ophelia paused for a beat while Bill took all of this in, his eyes still fixed on Ophelia while she stared pointedly towards the horizon. “Really, my brother had disappeared, and then 8 months later I had this authority figure in my life who was about his age and kind of looked like him, and something in me just automatically marked him as a replacement brother. That’s why it hurt so much when he left. I felt like I was being abandoned all over again.” Ophelia let her voice trail off a little. To her credit, her eyes were still dry, and her voice was still steady, but she felt a little raw from admitting all of that out loud to anyone for the first time. It had taken her years to figure out exactly why Chester’s graduation had impacted her so much, and she had never trusted anyone else to understand. Bill was quiet again for a minute, torn between guilt and pity.

“That’s really rough, Ophelia, I’m so sorry. You felt like you lost your brother all over again, I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt you. And Chester had no idea.” Bill said sympathetically

“And now you’re leaving too.” Ophelia sighed, drawing her mouth into a thin line as she clenched her jaw. “Jacob left, Chester left, and then I had you, and now you’re also leaving. Who’s to say you won’t just forget about me?”

Bill let out a short laugh at this, which brought Ophelia’s attention back to his face. “I won’t forget about you for the same reason I won’t forget about Charlie, or Ginny, or any of my family. You’re just as much a sister to me as my actual siblings are, and they’re not hearing the last of me for a long time to come.” Ophelia gave him a weak smile in response. Bill put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and Ophelia let its weight ground her a little. She knew it was ridiculous to assume that Bill would actually just forget about her entirely, and it had been preposterous to even suggest such a thing out loud. However, Jacob had left a deep emotional wound that Chester’s departure had reopened, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she would make it through Bill’s send-off in one piece.

An orange head appeared over the top of the nearest hillside, and soon Charlie could be seen making his way towards the two, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he tactfully diverted his eyes from what appeared to be a heartfelt scene. Bill removed his hand from Ophelia’s shoulder, and she immediately felt a little emptier in its absence.

“Glad you found her,” Charlie called to Bill. “You’ve probably got about 5 minutes before the rest of the family comes out to find you. You’re a commodity today, like it or not.” He stopped in front of the pair, eyes darting between the two, particularly between Bill’s hand on the bench and Ophelia’s shoulder that it had just parted from. “What was so important that the littles and mum and dad couldn’t be privy?”

“I was talking about Rakepick,” Ophelia said smoothly, surprising herself with how quickly she was able to lie to her friend’s face. Charlie’s eyebrows went up in surprise, as did Bill’s. “I was telling Bill about how I couldn’t believe she would abandon being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher when the portrait curse is still active. Bill here was just telling me about how Gringotts needed her back in the field-”

“-Which is true-” Bill interjected indignantly, still a little caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. The emotional vulnerability that had weighed on their conversation a minute ago had evaporated completely.

“-But that puts us at a disadvantage if we actually find the vault, since we know it’s bound to be more dangerous and difficult than the last. And that’s a huge IF we find it, since Rakepick was supposed to actually help break the vault, and instead spent the year working on her own agenda while she sent me on a goose-chase after Peeves for a portrait of himself that doesn’t actually do anything.” Ophelia paused for breath. She hadn’t really intended to run with this lie, but airing her grievances out loud had really put into perspective how much of a bind Rakepick had left her and the trapped students in. It also felt really good to say it all out loud. She considered Merula, as an afterthought. Merula had only acted as Rakepick’s apprentice, and Ophelia doubted that she would be willing to cooperate with her without Rakepick being there to tell her to do so.

“Professor Rakepick was an invaluable teacher for our O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. years,” Bill argued hotly. “She did her best to gather evidence to prepare us to continue her work after the defense against the dark arts teacher jinx inevitably kicked in. We all knew she wasn’t going to stick around for longer than a year in the middle of her busy life.” Bill’s ears were turning a little red, his handsome face twisted into a frown. Ophelia recoiled slightly. She had had no intention of pissing Bill off in their last few hours together. Treading on Bill’s blind reverence of his mentor was probably not the best cover to take just to hide her raw emotions from Charlie.

“You’re right, Bill, I’m sorry,” Ophelia said, trying to sound genuinely apologetic. “I wouldn’t have stood a chance in my defense O.W.L.s under any of our old teachers. Which begs the question-” she turned her attention to Charlie, who had awkwardly watched the two briefly bicker over Rakepick’s intentions with no comment, “Who’s going to replace her? Next to nobody applies because there’s no job security, and everyone we’ve had up until now has been incompetent, unqualified, uninterested, or some mixture of the three. They’ll have some pretty big shoes to fill.”

Bill seemed satisfied with Ophelia’s praise of Rakepick, which was admittedly largely rooted in fact. He also turned his attention to Charlie for his opinion. Charlie shrugged and sat down to occupy the gap between Ophelia and Bill, thinking quietly. “Dunno, but since we’re working towards N.E.W.T. level magic it’s got to be someone competent,” Charlie offered. “I hope we get to learn about dragons,” he added, eyes glazed over dreamily at the thought.

“You wish for that every year” Ophelia said, making a face. “They’re probably going to focus on actual dark creatures this year, since we’ve been working our way up from pesky and mostly harmless to pesky and potentially harmful.”

“I can confirm that, yeah.” Bill offered from Charlie’s other side. “You’ll learn about dementors and stuff, proper scary creatures. If there’s time in the curriculum, you’ll get to learn the patronus charm.” Ophelia and Charlie both ooh’d softly with excitement.

“I hope my patronus is a dragon,” Charlie echoed in the same dreamy tone.

“Charles, if anyone has a dragon patronus, it’ll definitely be you.” Ophelia laughed, as more red-haired children began to appear and approach them from over the hillside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: i went back and added (song) titles to the chapters and abused the purpose of the summary blurb by instead posting relevant and/or cryptic lyrics. I'm so 2000 and late but I'm also living my best life.
> 
> ITS MY FIRST BIG FIC PUBLISHED ON ao3 AND IM SO EXCITED!!! Comments, suggestions, etc would be so appreciated, since I'm still a bit new to publishing my writing. I've taken the story in a really different direction, and a lot of it is tied to Ophelia's backstory (https://cokebottlesanddenim.tumblr.com/post/188807345035/ophelia-fawley-info-post). There's a lot of info on her under that tag, but be wary of (non-canon) spoilers.
> 
> Here's my writing playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4hMqooNTGscT4zpiEDvXN6?si=he2nlwNvSje7EDzKxV4A9A


	2. For Reasons Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I caught my stride, I flew and flied  
>  I know if destiny's kind, I've got the rest on my mind  
> Well, my heart  
> It don't beat, it don't beat the way it used to  
> And my eyes  
> They don't see you no more_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow u made it to ch 2 and also i love you

Ophelia had been to Kings Cross station many times at this point. However, the chaos of hundreds of young wix, their families, and their trolleys heavily laden with large leather trunks and a menagerie of uncommon pets in cages bottle-necking their way to Platform 9 ¾ on September 1st always managed to throw her off. Fortunately, she and the Weasleys had managed to make it to the station in good time, over an hour before the train’s scheduled departure. Ophelia knew this was time was budgeted specifically for corralling the 2 newest Weasley students, and for what it was worth, Fred and George had tried their best to keep the morning from going as seamlessly as their parents had hoped. Between the cantankerous twins, an incessantly irritating Percy, a whining Ronald, and a sobbing Ginny, it was clear that Charlie and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had their hands full. Ophelia always felt a little out of place in Weasley family affairs, just as she had when Charlie got his O.W.L. results and when Bill struggled to apparate to Gringotts because all of his younger siblings refused to let go of him. Involving herself without explicit invitation felt rude and invasive, because despite what Bill said, she wasn’t exactly family. Her family, small as it was, was more than enough trouble on its own. In these cases, Ophelia had found that it was easier to quietly detach herself and leave unnoticed.

She offered Charlie a small wave, trying to nonverbally indicate that she was off to give the Weasleys some peace, and that she would catch up with him later on the train. Charlie’s nod in response seemed to suggest comprehension, although there was little else to confirm this as he tried to tether Fred by the wrist while stroking Ginny’s hair soothingly. Ophelia took her cue and turned towards the brick wall separating platforms 9 and 10.

She found her path to be immediately barred by a shorter, older woman with tightly curled dark brown hair, dark freckles, and eyes that had seen too much sadness and loss in their time. Ophelia hadn’t expected to see her mother so abruptly before her departure, and immediately Ophelia’s mind began racing to assume the worst possible scenarios that would bring her mother here. However, Julie Fawley smiled softly, opening her arms to take her daughter into a tight hug one last time before sending her off. Ophelia, as much as she loved her mother, was acutely aware of the eyes of her peers around her and groaned impatiently into her mother’s embrace.

“Mum, why… what… what’s up?” Ophelia asked hesitantly, not wanting to sound as though her mother was a wholly unwanted presence. Her mother’s hands were still holding Ophelia’s forearms, not quite ready to sever the hug yet.

“You didn’t write much over the summer, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about me before you left…” her mother said with an exaggerated sigh. Ophelia was also not unfamiliar with her mother’s subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) guilt tripping whenever she sought independence of any kind.

“I’m… sorry mum” Ophelia said, internally itching to get out of her mother’s grip and onto the train. “I was really busy all summer, and I didn’t want to wear out Arke. He’s getting old, and I thought you would get bored if I was updating you too often.” Ophelia cringed with how weak her excuses sounded out loud. Arke was definitely older than 13 and a bit past his prime, but he was still an incredibly reliable owl and always had been. Her second excuse was perhaps true, in that more regular updates of how Ophelia was getting on with the Weasleys would become repetitive. However, Mrs. Fawley was a worrisome mother; any correspondence from her daughter was welcome, regardless of how mundane it was. Mrs. Fawley laughed lightly, waving a hand as if to physically brush away her daughter’s feeble excuses.

“Well, I’m glad to see that you’re safe and healthy and ready for another year of learning. Remember, O.W.L.S aren’t enough to set you up for success, you still need to do well for the next 2 years to pursue a job… at Gringotts.” Mrs. Fawley always had a difficult time explicitly discussing curse-breakers. It had certainly become a taboo subject since Jacob had disappeared, made all the more uncomfortable every time Ophelia came home with a reprimanding letter from her professors detailing her misadventures to her mother. Ophelia was sure that if it were up to her mother, she would be working a safe and secure desk job when she finished Hogwarts. Or maybe she just wouldn’t be allowed to finish Hogwarts at all. Mrs. Fawley breezed past Ophelia’s hesitation by placing a hand lovingly on her daughter’s face, as if trying to physically and emotionally anchor her. Ophelia’s face was burning with embarrassment. Before her mother could get another word in, Ophelia leaned forward to kiss her swiftly on the cheek, breaking her mother’s hold on her face and arm. Before her mother could reclaim her in yet another physical display of affection, Ophelia stepped back behind her baggage trolley, putting a physical barricade between herself and her mother. Mrs. Fawley looked a little disoriented by her daughter’s quick movements, but before she could say anything else, Ophelia had started briskly pushing her trolley towards the brick wall in front of her.

“Byemumseeyouovertheholidaysloveyou” Ophelia called quickly without looking back, picking up speed until she was running dead-on into the solid wall in front of her. Instead of what should have been an injurious and surely humiliating crash into hard brick, Ophelia was instead plunged into darkness and an eerie split-second of silence. Before Ophelia could even properly register the change, she found herself on the other side of the brick wall, a gleaming red steam engine idling on the tracks in front of her. The platform was nowhere near as crowded as it was on the other side, but Ophelia could definitely tally that up to there being 45 minutes until the train was due to leave. If she was lucky, she would be able to snag an empty compartment all to herself. She took one last look over her shoulder before boarding the train, eyeing the wall she had left her mother on the other side of. Her mother meant well, but Ophelia feared that if she indulged her mother’s paranoia and clinginess too much, she would be guilted into abandoning Hogwarts altogether in lieu of staying at her mother’s side for the year. With a deep breath, she purposefully stepped onto the train, cementing the start of her 6th year at Hogwarts.

Ophelia found her solace only a few compartments down, and she quickly pulled in her trunk, wicker cat basket, and covered owl cage inside to claim it as her own. After a minute or two of struggling (she seemed to have stopped growing years ago at a measly 5’3), she settled herself across the empty seats, reveling in the peace and quiet that was sure to be short-lived.

Only 15 minutes later the door slid open and a bright crimson head of hair poked in, followed quickly by the rest of Tulip Karasu. Although Tulip generally avoided physical interaction and displays of affection, she launched herself at Ophelia into a tackle-like hug. Ophelia laughed as she tried to push her friend off, but Tulip’s hug, which was definitely turning more into a tickle attack, only got tighter. Finally, Ophelia managed to push her off, and the two took each other in, still a little breathless from the attack-hug and the infectious laughter.

Like Ophelia, Tulip was dressed in casual muggle attire, although Ophelia was absolutely sure this was to upset her austere ministry professional parents, rather than as a means to draw less attention to herself in the middle of a train station with a towering owl cage. Although she hadn’t seen them, Ophelia was willing to put money on the fact that Tulip's parents had arrived in clothes that were determinately magical, likely along the lines of full-length black robes in 70-degree heat. Tulip was wearing dark jeans and a t shirt that depicted a muggle band. The shirt had obviously and sloppily been cropped with a pair of shears, showing off a sliver of her pale midriff. Again, Ophelia was sure she wore it to annoy her parents, and Tulip herself might not even be familiar with the band she was proudly sporting.

Tulip opened the compartment door behind her all the way, revealing an excitable Tonks and anxious-looking Penny. Tulip dragged in her own trunk, topped with a small cage that held a fat toad inside. Tonks and Penny followed suit before taking turns hugging Ophelia, albeit with considerably less tickles.

“Wotcher, Ophelia!” Tonks called immediately, grinning from ear to ear. Her hair was its signature bubblegum pink spikes, and like Tulip, she had opted for jeans and an old unfitted t-shirt. Ophelia had always wondered why she never switched up her everyday look more often, given that she could change her appearance instantly at will. If Ophelia had that power, she would change her long curly brown hair and dark freckles without hesitation. She had no particular qualms about her appearance, but walking past mirrors almost always caught her off-guard, because out of the corner of her eye, if she wasn’t thinking, she could see Jacob in her reflection.

Penny, in contrast to the rest of them, was practically already wearing her school uniform: dark tights, shiny flats, and an untucked white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. When she wore it without a sweater, tie, or robes, she could pull it off as chic, almost casual.

Tulip and Penny took the seats opposite Ophelia in the carriage, while Tonks leisurely spread herself across the rest of the bench on Ophelia’s side, her legs draped across Ophelia’s lap. While Tonks and Tulip were obviously giddy to be reunited with their friends, Penny’s smile was faltering, and she kept distractedly checking out the window at the large clock on the platform counting down the minutes to departure. There was still nearly 20 minutes, and the creep towards 11am was marked by the growing crowd on the platform as more families phased through the wall, pets and trunks in tow. The corridor outside the compartment was growing steadily louder as students passed looking for available seats, but their conversations were gratefully muted beyond the glass door.

“You know the clock won’t go faster if you keep checking it,” Tulip said, not even looking up at Penny, who jumped a little, caught in the act of peering out the window again. Ophelia and Tonks turned their heads to look at Penny, who hung her head a little in embarrassment.

“I’m just… excited to see Bea is all…” Penny mumbled, although her tone was anxious, and almost scared, rather than excited. Penny’s outfit made some sense now, as though she thought any time-saving shortcut would bring her back to her sister faster. The logic wasn’t foolproof, as she would have to change into her uniform on the train before arriving anyways, so already being half in uniform wouldn’t necessarily speed things along. However, Ophelia had experienced more than her fair share of anxiously waiting in vain to see her brother again, and sometimes things like dressing early made just enough sense to ease immediate worries rather than actually be logistically helpful.

“Blimey, is Beatrice still stuck in that portrait?” Tonks asked, looking between Penny and Ophelia. “I’d have thought they might have broken the curse over the summer while we were gone!”

“As if they could get any curse-breaking done without Ophelia Fawley” Tulip stated with a hint of… pride?. “Gringotts literally sent in their best _professional_ curse breaker and in 2 years she wasn’t able to do anything that Ophelia wasn’t doing herself.” Ophelia blushed a little at Tulip’s praise, but a quick glance at Penny showed that she was definitely not enjoying this trajectory of the conversation.

“Did Dumbledore write to you?” Ophelia quickly asked Penny, hoping to steer the conversation in a more supportive and sympathetic direction. Penny offered a small smile and half a shrug as her gaze drifted idly back out the window.

“He did write a bit, yeah, he was very kind. He said he was talking to her every day and monitoring her psyche to make sure she was… still all there…” Her voice tapered off again, her soft smile flickering like a dying candle. Ophelia watched her sadly, wishing there was more she could do to raise her friend’s spirits. Of course, she could just break the curse, free her brother, save Beatrice, and safely reunite all the siblings, but without Bill or Rakepick around, Ophelia feared these were tasks much easier said than done.

*

Once the train finally did leave the station (and even then it traveled at far too slow a pace for Penny’s preference), the rest of the morning seemed to flash by. Before Ophelia knew it, it was time to head to the prefects’ carriage for their lunch meeting and patrol. Ophelia wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to attend in her uniform or not, as she was supposed to be setting a good example for the newest 5th year prefects and maintain some level of authority over the students she would be patrolling. Ultimately, she opted to throw her robes on over her t-shirt, but had the good sense to swap her high-waisted summer shorts for her school skirt. However, still paired with her worn out sneakers, her outfit toed the line between blasé and completely mismatched. Unwilling to change any more out of fear of being late to the meeting, she hastily fastened her shiny blue prefect’s badge pinned prominently over the embroidered Ravenclaw insignia. Tonks wholeheartedly approved of the look, but Tulip and Penny made it clear that, especially in this ensemble, they still had no idea how she had managed to convince her professors that she was prefect material. Ophelia rolled her eyes at their lighthearted mockery, knowing full well that she had worked very hard for the privilege and prestige of being a prefect, and if anything, it granted her slightly more flexibility with the rules in order to break more curses.

Once Ophelia finally managed to escape the taunting of her compartment, she found herself in the empty corridor of the train, the clacking of the tracks rumbling under her feet. She had barely made it more than a carriage down before she was intercepted by Andre, her Ravenclaw prefect counterpart. Somehow taller and more dashing than she remembered, Andre was putting her mismatched attire to shame in his clean and pressed uniform, complete with his signature Pride of Portree scarf slung elegantly over his shoulders. He had barely gotten a greeting out before he stepped back to take in her outfit, tutting disappointedly. Andre had ridiculously high standards when it came to fashion, and Ophelia’s were abysmally low, making many of her outfits the stuff of Andre’s worst nightmares. Despite this, his dissatisfaction lasted only a few seconds before he wrapped Ophelia in a tight hug, eager to discuss her summer with her as they walked towards the end of the train.

“Lucky, I wish I’d gotten a chance to practice quidditch with Charlie!” he exclaimed as Ophelia breezed through a summer of Mrs. Weasley’s excellent cooking, Bill’s departure, and of course, her mini-scrimmages with the Weasley boys. Ophelia laughed at Andre’s comment.

“I wish it could have been you rather than me! You know I’m rubbish on a broom. I’m just lucky they made me play keeper so I didn’t have to move around as much!” Ophelia retorted. Andre placed a hand on his heart in mock outrage, staring appalled at Ophelia.

“Are you telling me that being a Keeper is easy? That we don’t do anything?!” Andre asked indignantly, although the rising pitch in his voice betrayed the lack of genuinely hurt feelings. Ophelia rolled her eyes, elbowing him playfully in the ribs (although that was really as high as she could reach anyways). Andre was undoubtedly the best keeper Ravenclaw had had in decades, and regardless of his academics, he was promising to be a professional quidditch player after he left school. Countless flying tutoring from him had only proved Ophelia’s point that she was rubbish on a broomstick, and that any flying-related excursions she pursued were best to be kept accompanied by a more capable companion.

Andre opened the door to the prefect’s carriage ahead of Ophelia, allowing her to enter ahead of him. She was grateful that they were not the last to arrive, but she was certainly among the most questionably dressed. Ophelia took a seat between Barnaby and the 6th year Hufflepuff male prefect, whom she was admittedly not entirely acquainted with. Across from her, Andre took a seat next to Charlie, who had previously been having what seemed to be a perfectly civil conversation with Merula on his other side. While Andre and Charlie immediately began discussing predictions for the next quidditch world cup, Merula turned her attention to Ophelia. She was neither sneering nor grinning wickedly as usual, but instead seemed to be sizing her up, her deep magenta eyes slightly narrowed while the rest of her face remained unreadable. Before Ophelia could react, the last of the prefects arrived, and the new Head Boy and Head Girl, a Hufflepuff and Slytherin respectively, called attention to the rest of the carriage and started the meeting. Ophelia smiled kindly at the newest Ravenclaw prefects who, despite being only a year below her, seemed so young and inexperienced in her eyes. They had yet to endure the creative wrath of Tulip Karasu, and that, if anything, was bound to drain the sparkle and hope from their eyes. As much as Ophelia tried to focus on the meeting, she could feel Merula still staring her down with unknown intent. For a moment Ophelia wished she was skilled enough at subtle legilimancy to know what was going on in that girl’s crazy head, but she was tragically still limited to verbal incantations and wand use.

Ophelia was so invested in her fantasy of probing Merula’s mind for answers that she was caught off guard when the head girl clapped her hands together loudly, marking the end of the meeting. A cart of small sandwiches and pumpkin juice was rolled into the center of the carriage, and the prefects dissolved into conversations and questions as they ate from the magically refilling tray. Ophelia was peripherally aware that the Hufflepuff prefect on her other side had risen from his seat to join Merula, and the two began to speak in voices too quiet for Ophelia to hear. She was still acutely aware of the glances Merula was shooting her in between her conversation with the prefect. On Ophelia’s other side, Barnaby quickly wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug, clearly ecstatic to see one of his best friends again after a summer apart. He eagerly asked Ophelia about her summer, and like Andre was envious to hear that she had gotten to spend most of it with the Weasleys.

“Did you see any gnomes? I’ve heard there’s loads of them in Ottery St. Catchpole” Barnaby gushed, eager to turn the conversation towards his true passion: magical creatures. He really wasn’t unlike Charlie in that regard.

“Oh yeah, loads!” Ophelia said, although her tone was nowhere near as enthusiastic about the garden pests as Barnaby was. She held up her hand, where several tiny puncture marks were visible from yesterday’s de-gnoming of the garden. “Little bastards got me when I didn’t throw them quick enough.” Barnaby laughed, more amused by the mischievous antics of gnomes than the small injuries his friend had sustained while dealing with them.

The carriage was filled with light conversation between the prefects, punctuated with meaningful questions for the head students. Ophelia listened gladly to Barnaby’s blow-by-blow account of every creature interaction he experienced over the summer, but the entire time she could feel Merula’s stare boring into her skull like a drill. Merula, as ever, was just a distraction. Ophelia was ready to adamantly ignore her all year if she could, even if that meant she would be pursuing the cursed vaults entirely on her own. When the plate of sandwiches finally stopped refilling itself, the head girl clapped her hands together again excitedly.

“Time to patrol the train! This will be a great starter exercise in rule regulation! No punishments or house points need to be dished out just yet, a warning should suffice for now. Any more serious transgressions should be reported to me, our Head Boy, or the student’s head of house later this evening! When in doubt, refer to an older prefect!”

The prefects immediately split into teams of two. Ophelia turned to Charlie quickly, but Charlie shook his head and instead nodded his head towards Merula to join him in patrol. Ophelia was a little disheartened, but felt it was probably best that Merula be kept in line by one of the few wizards who could make her behave, rather than allow her to be let loose to bully everyone on the train. She instead turned back to Barnaby, but he had already been claimed by the Head Girl. Ophelia was about to turn to Andre when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the unacquainted Hufflepuff prefect, who shot her a dazzling smile that went all the way up to his large sparkling dark brown eyes.

“Care to join me on patrol?” he asked. Ophelia, caught a little off-guard by his charisma and mile-long lashes, only nodded in agreement. He offered a hand to help Ophelia from her seat, but Ophelia instead brought herself to her feet a little less graciously than she had intended.

She, her patrol partner, and the rest of the prefects left the carriage and began to walk down the length of the train, staggering themselves evenly until there was a presence in every carriage. Ophelia and the Hufflepuff prefect found themselves close to the end of the train, all of her friends paired off and patrolling several carriages behind her. Before she could turn to address her duties, her partner held a remarkably well-manicured hand out to her in greeting.

“Diego Caplan, I’m afraid we were never formally introduced,” he said, flashing her another dazzling smile of perfect white teeth. Ophelia took his hand, acutely aware of how calloused her own hand felt against his.

“Ophelia Fawley,” she said, trying her best to match his charismatic energy. She honestly couldn’t tell if she was being charmed or challenged. Whatever he was doing, she wasn’t going to let it get her in trouble. She turned towards the first compartment to her side, smiling gently and waving friendlily at a group of very nervous looking first years who were already dressed in their plain black robes.

“Oh Ophelia, of course I know all about you. Aside from all your splendid work with the vaults, you are the constant topic of conversation with my pupil.” Diego laughed, also turning his attention to the compartments on his side.

“Pupil?” Ophelia questioned, tearing her eyes away from a group of students playing exploding snap.

“I’ve been tutoring Merula Snyde in dueling for several months before the summer holidays. She’s determined to beat you someday, and as the head of the dueling club and the best dueler at Hogwarts, I’d say you’re going to have your work cut out for you when she next asks for a rematch.”

Ophelia let out a short laugh. “I mean, as much of a pleasure as it is to kick Merula’s ass every time, I’m surprised she’d swallow her pride and actually seek remedial help from the best dueler on campus. Which is actually me, in fact. I’m the best dueler, like, objectively,” Ophelia said, aware that she sounded a little overconfident. Let anyone else who had battled a yeti, a werewolf, several dark wizards, several boggarts simultaneously, and on a few occasions a chimera tell her otherwise. Diego laughed again, but it wasn’t a laugh that questioned or ridiculed her.

“I’d love to duel with you sometime to hold you to your word,” he offered, eyebrows wiggling. “I haven’t had the chance to dance with you yet, and I feel our match is long overdue.”

“I might have to stop by dueling club then…” Ophelia said lightly, her back to Diego while she tapped the glass of a compartment and shook her head no at the students inside, where one second year was showing off a very impressive and disastrous collection of dungbombs to his peers. “… To make an example of you. I’ve apparently got a reputation to uphold.”

“Ophelia Fawley, if you were a spell you would be Expelliarmus; charming but disarming” Diego laughed again. Ophelia rolled her eyes, but still flushed a little. She hid this by peering very deliberately into the last compartment of the carriage, which was notably empty.

“You’re quite the Casanova, aren’t you Caplan?” Ophelia said, turning to Diego as they both met at the back of the carriage, marking the end of their patrol. Diego shot her a wink.

“Tell me, Ophelia, are you seeing anyone?”

The question caught Ophelia completely off guard, and she almost choked on her complete lack of an answer before she was able to even completely process what he had said.

“Umm… no? No, I don’t really… have time for that… sort of… thing?” Ophelia said slowly and calculatingly, unable to meet Diego’s eyes. “There’s nobody I’ve really considered that way anyways” she added quickly, hoping this boy wasn’t going to make an extremely unwanted pass at her in the middle of an empty corridor.

“That’s a shame, Ophelia. I’m sure you could have anyone in this school you wanted, and anyone would be lucky to have you” he said, genuinely, offering a kind smile. Ophelia was a little lost for words at his statement, but was spared from having to continue the conversation when two of the new prefects from the carriage past them came through the door behind them.

“Oh, Caplan, great. What was the policy again on frog-spawn soap? Some twin boys in the back have got nearly a full trunk of the stuff between them, and we’re not sure whether to confiscate it?” the 5th year Hufflepuff prefect directed at Diego, while her Gryffindor counterpart held back waiting for a response.

“Depends… if they’re Hufflepuffs, I say we can… overlook this surely minor transgression…” Diego said, shooting her a sly wink.

“Ah, they’re first-years, unsorted. They’re everyone’s problem right now” the Gryffindor prefect supplemented. Ophelia grinned.

“Red haired, monogrammed sweaters?” Ophelia asked the 5th year pair, who’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Um, yeah” the Gryffindor affirmed, a little awestruck that this random prefect somehow had an encyclopedic knowledge of unsorted first-years.

“Those’ll be Weasleys, which means they’re definitely your problem,” Ophelia laughed, clapping the Gryffindor prefect sympathetically on the back. “I can assure you the frog spawn soap will be the least of your worries from them, but if you try to stop them now, they’ll only get craftier about hiding their mischief. They’re more trouble than they look,” Ophelia advised to an audience of impressed-looking prefects.

“Are you friends with the Weasleys or something?” the Gryffindor asked curiously.

“Some would even consider me family” Ophelia hummed, throwing the 3 of them a wink to rival Diego’s before turning on her heel to join her friends in her compartment further up the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing: what if...,,. i used...,,.. the entire thesaurus,,,, and as many commas,,,, as humanly possible,,????


	3. Girls and Boys in School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our anticipation  
>  And our bad behavin'  
> It's like we learned or lesson  
> But conveniently forgot the rules_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia slid the door to her compartment to reveal that it had been occupied by Rowan and Barnaby in her absence, the latter of which had evidentially finished his patrolling early and beaten her back. Tonks had since moved entirely to the corner of the bench, and was laying with her back against the seat, her legs up against the wall, and her head hanging upside-down at ankle level.

“Hey, hey!” shouted Tonks, waving her hands at Ophelia to stop her from entering. “No prefects allowed, cool kids only!” The movement nearly toppled her over, her legs flailing dangerously close to Rowan’s head.

“Yeah” Barnaby agreed enthusiastically, clearly disregarding the prefects badge pinned to his robes a foot under his chin. The carriage laughed, and Rowan held her arms open to Ophelia, who gladly stepped into her embrace before she took her seat between Rowan and Tonks. Barnaby was seated across from Rowan next to Tulip and Penny. Ophelia was grateful that Penny looked much less agitated than she had been at the beginning of the journey, and was happily engaged in an ongoing conversation with Tulip.

Before Ophelia could even ask Rowan about her summer, Rowan quickly pulled 2 familiar pieces of paper from her robes and straightened them out on the table next to the window. The carriage was full of groans as Rowan looked around excitedly, clearly eager to swap O.W.L. scores with everyone. A quick glance at Rowan’s scores left little to debate; she had received 12 O’s, well deserved and on display for the entire carriage to envy.

“If I hadn’t known that you’ve been studying for your O.W.L.s since the day you started at Hogwarts, I’d ask who your auto-answer quill dealer is” Tulip sneered, hiding her admiration and jealously of her friend behind a façade of disinterest and disbelief. A proud smile still tugged at the corner of her mouth nonetheless. Behind all the walls she constantly put up, Tulip really loved watching her friends succeed.

“I got 4 O.W.L.s” Barnaby said brightly, unaware, or perhaps unphased, that that was a tragically low number of passing marks. “A in Charms, E in History of Magic, and O's in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures!” he said excitedly, beaming around the carriage.

“How’d you manage an E in History? I got an A and I think I fell asleep during the exam” Tonks’ voice queried from near the floor. Ophelia nodded in agreement, looking towards Barnaby for an explanation.

“Rowan tutored me loads before the exams. I definitely would not have passed without her!” Barnaby said, gesturing proudly towards Rowan, who blushed a little at the praise. “But I’m really proud of my Care of Magical Creatures score! That was the only one I really cared about,” Barnaby added with a contented sigh, smiling at the fantasy of pursuing just that class for the next 2 years.

“Well I’d like to extend my thanks to Penny for my O in potions. Snape’ll be livid that he has to spend another 2 years with me, but it’ll be worth it to be an auror” Tonks added, and a murmur of agreement swept the carriage for those who were carried to victory by Penny’s vigorous but successful tutelage. “Got an O in Defense and Transfiguration, E in charms and herbology, and A in astronomy. Think I’ll drop astronomy, to be honest. Never cared much for stars.” Tonks mused, her face slowly becoming pinker than her hair the longer she laid in her position.

“I thought you liked Astronomy?” Penny asked.

“I like the moon, Pen. There’s only one of it, makes it way easier to learn” Tonks corrected. “There’s way too many stars for me to give a piss about.”

“What about you, dearest prefect, the leading student example of scholastic Ravenclaw house?” Tulip asked, again using a playful jeer to hide her genuine curiosity. Ophelia was reminded starkly of Merula, who never seemed to be unable to honestly convey her feelings and was often hostile in an attempt to hide them.

“Tell me what you got first” Ophelia deflected defensively. Tulip wasn’t going to get to gibe her without paying upfront.

“I got 7” Tulip retorted nonchalantly, waving her hand as if discussing the weather outside and not a respectable number of life-determining exam scores. “4 O’s, 3 E’s, tanked divination, herbology, and care of magical creatures. Which should surprise no one, since Trelawney is a melodramatic fraud and it’s a well-known fact that I don’t like to get my hands dirty,” Tulip added matter-of-factly.

"Your signature prank is dungbombs," Rowan said quizzically, her brow furrowed in open disbelief.

"And you'll never see me around when one goes off," Tulip smirked, before turning again to make dead-on eye-contact with Ophelia. “What did you get, Ophelia Fawley?” she asked again, cocking an eyebrow.

“I got 10. 4 O’s, 3 E’s, and 3 A’s. Credit where credit is due to Penny and Rowan; yes, I will be pursuing all 10 subjects at N.E.W.T. level; no, I will not be taking further questions” Ophelia responded in the same matter-of-fact tone, trying not to sound too arrogant or falsely humble.

“Are you taking Care of Magical Creatures with me?” Barnaby asked excitedly.

“Excellent question that I definitely did not already address, Barnaby; yes, I will be, and I will not be taking any questions other than that” Ophelia replied, nodding towards Barnaby in recognition, but continuing to deadpan stare down Tulip in whatever artificial mind-game she was playing with her. Tulip seemed pleased with this response and turned to Penny, her expression suddenly softened and smiling. Ophelia often wondered whether Tulip really did resent her more because she was a prefect, or if her mocking and scrutiny was just her weird specialized way of showing affection.

“Et tu, Penelope?” Tulip inquired lightly, elbowing Penny playfully.

“6 O.W.L.s. 2 O’s, 3 E’s, one A. Obviously got the O where it counts, and since I’ve only ever wanted to be a potions master, I hardly think it’s even worth divulging beyond that” Penny said in an equally polite voice, but her statement offered an air of finality that was enough to subtly influence Rowan to return her scores back to the inner pockets of her robes with no further questions.

“Oh! Happy Birthday!” Rowan suddenly cried, turning to hug her best friend tightly again. A chorus of well wishes echoed throughout the cabin at this as the group remembered that Ophelia had celebrated her 16th birthday 4 days ago. “Hold on, I got you a gift!” Rowan said, jumping on top of her seat to access her trunk in the overhead racks. She reemerged a minute later clutching a neatly wrapped package. Penny and Tulip had both followed suit, clambering through their stowed trunks to access presents.

“Oh wow, you guys didn’t have to get me anything” Ophelia said, a little flustered from all the sudden attention.

“Rubbish” Tulip said, tossing her own wrapped parcel across the compartment to Ophelia, who was able to catch it in one hand. “Take good care of that, they don’t come cheap!” Tulip added, disregarding the fact that she had just carelessly lobbed whatever it was as though it were a bundle of socks. Come to think of it, it definitely smelled a bit like a bundle of socks.

“Tulip, if this is another massive dungbomb…” Ophelia said warningly as she carefully set it aside, turning her attention to Rowan’s considerably better smelling gift.

“Give me some credit, Ophelia Fawley, I have slightly more range than that” Tulip chuckled, her dark eyes glinting. Ophelia pulled the carefully wrapped paper off of Rowan’s gift and opened the box, revealing a set of what appeared to be a very ornate and complicated pair of brass binoculars. Ophelia turned it over in her hands as she marveled at it, thrilled by its design but not knowing at all what they were.

“They’re omnioculars!” Rowan said gleefully, answering Ophelia’s unasked query. “They’re great for sporting events! They can give you a play-by-play breakdown and slow-motion replays” Rowan said, pointing at all of the delicate knobs and dials surrounding the lens. Ophelia eagerly pointed the omnioculars at each of her friends, experimenting with the knobs as she watched and re-watched them smile, wave, and make faces at her in various degrees of slow motion.

“These are great, Rowan!” Ophelia gushed, eager to get a chance to use every single setting in action. “Thank you so much.”

Ophelia placed the omnioculars back into its box and set it at her side, moving on to pick up Tulip’s gift. It was bulky, roughly the size of a bludger, and was surprisingly heavy for its size. A second whiff confirmed it did smell a bit of dirty laundry, but certainly not comparable to a jumbo dungbomb. She carefully peeled apart the paper to reveal a layer of socks, evidentially padding whatever lay deeper in the parcel. Well, that solved the question of its mysterious odor. She raised an eyebrow at Tulip, who nodded encouragingly for her to keep unwrapping her gift. Ophelia gingerly removed the layer of old socks to reveal what appeared to be at first glance an oversized spinning top toy. It was decorated in bright blue, yellow, and red patterns, and under the clear glass dome on top a small blue ball the size of a marble rolled around a small spired tip. Several occupants ooh'd and ahh'd at the device, apparently recognizing what it was. Ophelia was enthralled and pleasantly surprised by the lovely-looking gift, but still looked up at Tulip for an explanation, as she herself had no idea what she had just been given.

“It’s a sneakoscope!” Tulip said proudly. “It whistles and lights up when someone untrustworthy is in your immediate area!” Ophelia’s eyebrow raised higher.

“You’re giving me a noisy light-up device to catch troublemakers, when I share a dorm with one of Hogwarts’ most notorious troublemakers? Seems you’ve shot yourself in the foot there, Tulip.” Ophelia chuckled, tossing the surprisingly heavy sneakoscope between her hands. To her surprise, the device was not acting up in the presence of Tulip and Tonks.

“It detects deceit and lies, not fantastic pranks” Tulip said, rolling her eyes. “My parents had it stashed at the bottom of their sock drawer, it wouldn’t stop blinking and whistling while it was there. They must’ve gotten it to use around me, but I guess they got tired of it when it wouldn’t stop going off,” Tulip continued. “Which checks out, since I definitely lie to them all the time.”

“That would explain the socks, I guess…” Ophelia laughed, indicating the pile of socks that still lay amongst the wrapping paper in her lap.

“Oh yeah, you can keep those too. Think of it as an early Christmas present,” Tulip said. “I hope it really works, I haven’t really had a great chance to test it in action yet, but I thought it would help warn you if R is close by or if you’re in danger.” Ophelia was touched by the genuine thoughtfulness of the gift and Tulip’s measures to keep her safe. She smiled gratefully at Tulip.

“Thanks, Tulip, it’s fantastic, I really appreciate it,” Ophelia said, stretching out one arm to invite Tulip into an appreciative hug. Tulip grumbled but stood up to accept the one-armed hug, smiling softly as she sat back down.

Penny held her gift forward towards Ophelia, which Ophelia had to accept with both hands due to its size and weight. The rectangular package was flat and wrapped neatly like Rowan’s.

“Penny, really, a book? I could expect this from Rowan, but never from you…” Ophelia teased, pulling her third and final present into her lap. Penny laughed but offered no rebuttal. Ophelia peeled apart the paper and revealed the gift to be not a heavy tome, as the size and weight suggested, but a polished wooden box. Ophelia gently opened the lid, revealing a very fancy stationary set. The parchment inside was pressed with dry flowers, a variety of colorful and beautiful quills lay tucked in a row, and along the side there was an array of ink pots with different labels.

“Some of the inks change color or turn invisible!” Penny explained, pointing a finger across the selection of inks. A few are scented, that one can be erased with a wand tip, and some of them are just really nice colors! Some of the quills have different ink flow or are magically refilling, and they all have guaranteed unbreakable nibs!” Penny sat back proudly, watching as Ophelia gawked over the stationary set. It was a really beautiful gift. Ophelia raised her arms again for a grateful hug, not wanting to disturb the box in her lap, and Penny stood back up again to receive the embrace.

After stowing all of her birthday gifts in her trunk overhead, Ophelia sat back down again, buzzing with the excitement of receiving gifts and overwhelmed by the love her friends. Barnaby pouted at her, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t thought to give her anything.

“I wish I had known we were having a party!” he complained. “I would have gotten you a gift!”

“Ophelia, your next Zonko’s trip is 100% on me,” Tonks offered, having since righted herself in her seat and was again spread leisurely across Ophelia’s and Rowan’s laps. “We can have a proper party at the 3 broomsticks, I hear Rosmerta does a butterbeer special for birthdays!” she added excitedly.

“No, no, it’s fine, the Weasleys sort of threw me a party on my birthday,” Ophelia insisted, fondly recalling the family dinner Mrs. Weasley had single-handedly prepared and served in her honor, complete with a large birthday cake and gifts of homemade fudge. Ophelia had insisted that it wasn’t necessary to do so much for her, but Mrs. Weasley had ignored this, going so far as to learn what her favorite foods were from Charlie. “If you’re serious about the Zonko’s trip, Tonks, I’ll hold you to that, and Barnaby knows I’ll never turn down a free drink,” Ophelia laughed, nodding towards Tonks and Barnaby respectively. Barnaby grinned widely, excited at the thought of being able to make up for his unintentional slip-up by covering his friend’s tab over the first trip to Hogsmeade. Tonks also beamed, but she was possibly more excited by the idea of returning to Zonko’s in general.

*

As the evening continued, the previously warm weather and clear skies darkened to a stormy hue, and heavy rain began to beat against the windows. The carriage occupants found themselves seeking the warmth of sweaters and robes as the sky continued to darken outside. Before the last of the light of the sun had even set completely over the mountains, all 6 of them were dressed properly in their uniforms, with Penny and Rowan both opting to cover their stocking-clad legs with an extra set of robes spread out like a blanket for warmth.

“I’d hate to be a first year in this weather. Can you imagine crossing the lake in this rain?” asked Tonks, her nose pressed against the cold window as thunder cracked outside. “Might as well make them swim, it won’t make them any less wet.” The carriage laughed, although a collective shiver went through the carriage as thunder rolled over the distant mountains.

Once the view beyond the window grew too dark to make out, the rest of the trip seemed to go by exceptionally fast. By the time the train had started to noticeably slow down, marking their arrival at Hogsmeade station, the sky outside was inky black and the rain was falling hard and fast. The only light that penetrated the darkness was the blurry glow of castle across the lake from the train station. Tulip, Penny, Tonks, and Rowan all left the train as quickly as they could to snag a carriage up to the castle, leaving Ophelia and Barnaby to join the rest of the prefects in gently herding the pale-faced first years towards the boats. As soon as every 11-year-old was accounted for and under the watchful eye of Hagrid, the soaked pair left to find a carriage up to the castle for themselves. Having fallen behind the rest of the students, there were only a few available, and Ophelia and Barnaby clambered blindly into the first one available to get out of the rain.

The carriage thankfully had only 2 occupants: a dripping wet and clearly agitated Andre sitting across from an equally soaked but otherwise unphased Charlie. Ophelia knew Andre must have rushed to get out of the rain as quickly as possible, but he was no less drenched than the rest of them were. Barnaby took the empty seat next to Charlie, and Ophelia sat opposite him next to Andre. Ophelia wasted little time in moving to wring out her drenched hair, watching as a small puddle grew on the floor of the carriage as her sodden curls drained slowly of rainwater. She knew it would eventually dry into an unruly mass, and was determined to minimize damage until she could get herself to a shower, or maybe a late-night excursion to the prefect’s exclusive bathtub. The thought of soaking in hot, perfumed water after all of this was enough to lift her spirits considerably.

“How will the first years respect me looking like this” Andre cried morosely at Ophelia as she finished tying back her hair, plucking at his drenched scarf. He looked genuinely disheartened.

“It’s just a little rain, it’s not like a bunch of already-soaking 11-year-olds will write you off for having a wet scarf” Charlie said, trying to be kind despite Andre’s melodramatic whining.

“No, Charlie, how will those first years ever respect a prefect, star keeper, and quidditch captain if he doesn’t dress well? He might as well give up now.” Ophelia noted sardonically. Andre gesticulated towards Ophelia in complete and unironic agreement while staring pointedly at Charlie, as if to accuse him for suggesting something so ridiculous. Charlie rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his own soaked hair as he looked out the window at the looming castle. Ophelia followed his gaze, as the blurred lights from the window came into sharper focus the closer they rode to the school.

“Did you ever put more thought into who’s gonna be Defense Against the Dart Arts professor this year?” Charlie asked, his eyes still fixed out the window as the carriage trundled along the dirt path. Ophelia was taken aback; she knew Charlie was referring to what he thought was her and Bill’s last private conversation, but once the rest of his siblings had arrived to reclaim Bill, she had honestly not even thought about the subject since. She had simply bought the required textbook listed in her school letter, and assumed they would be taught by whatever forgettable, incompetent wizard Dumbledore could hire at the last minute. She said none of this to Charlie.

“I hope it’s someone good, but there hasn’t been any news” Ophelia finally said, shrugging. It was a thoroughly neutral answer and a sentiment that she expressed almost every single year.

“Do you think we would just not have the class if they couldn’t find a teacher?” Barnaby asked, sounding more worried than hopeful. He had after all achieved very few O.W.L.s, and was really looking forward to joining Defense Against the Dark Arts with the rest of his friends.

“I don’t think they’ve ever not had a professor for a core class,” Andre speculated, “But I’m sure if they were unable to find anyone to teach they would at least still have us learn the course theory.”

The carriage lapsed back into silence, punctuated only by the heavy rain overhead and the sound of the carriage moving steadily towards the castle lights. Everyone was lost in thought about their prospects for the latest DADA professor, but they would know soon enough, and it wasn’t really worth thinking out loud.

The four of them were among the last to get to the castle, joined at the doors by other prefects running from their parked carriages to get out of the rain as quickly as possible. Ophelia threw one last glance over her shoulder, watching as the first years began to dock at the boat house and walk up towards the great hall, lanterns in hand. She was herded into the Entrance hall amidst the crowd of cold and wet prefects, and was immediately grateful for the plentiful torches and fireplaces that were lit throughout the castle. Inside the castle was warm, dry and welcoming. Possibly from the heat of nearby torches, but more likely by enchantment, Ophelia could already feel her robes and hair starting to dry out.

The great hall was already crowded and loud with lively chatter when they walked in, the enchanted ceiling overhead an inky black over the glow of a thousand floating candles. Soaking wet and overwhelmed by the majesty of the Great Hall, Ophelia felt as though she were a first year all over again, until Andre tugged at her sleeve and lead her between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables to where the Ravenclaws were all sitting. Ophelia and Andre walked all the way up the Ravenclaw table until they were nearly at the frumpy old hat sitting on a stool at the front of the hall. They slid into the bench directly across from Tulip and Rowan, who had aggressively saved the seats for their friends. Rowan was quick to draw Ophelia and Andre’s attention to the staff table, where an unfamiliar wizard was seated, filling in the space Madam Rakepick had so recently vacated. He was clearly tall, even when sitting, and could easily be 30 or 60, as the lines across his face suggested age and experience. Yet at the same time, he also seemed to possess a youthful vigor. His hair was cut short and was starting to recede a bit, offering some, but ultimately little, indication to his mystery age. His pale eyes were darting quickly around the room, as if he were responding to a dozen people calling his name at once from several different directions. Unless Snape had finally gotten lucky, this wild-eyed man was clearly their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

The hall was suddenly filled with shushes as all heads turned to the front of the great hall, where Professor McGonagall was standing in front of a crowd of very drenched and nervous looking first years. She began to walk to walk them towards the front, their wet shoes squeaking and their robes leaving a wet trail as if they were collectively a giant slug. For a moment, the first years stood in a soggy silent mass, but issued a collective gasp (and maybe a small scream) when the old hat 10 feet in front of them suddenly came to life and burst into song.

“Barnaby’s put money on there being more Slytherin first years than Ravenclaw this year. You in?” Andre breathed in Ophelia’s ear as the hat’s song digressed from a basic history of the four houses to a series of vague suggestions of inter-house comradery.

“No way, Slytherin always ends up with a few more, Slytherin is a legacy house. Same with Gryffindor, you should have put your money there.” Ophelia whispered back, eyeing the 50 or so students who were completely enraptured by the hat’s song.

“Shit, good call” Andre breathed back, disappointed. “I’m out 2 galleons, wanna spot me? I’m not carrying anything right now. Forgot to mention that to Barnaby,” he added with a sly grin.

“More likely Barnaby will have forgotten the bet entirely by the time the food appears in front of him. Poor boy has got the attention span of a flobberworm,” Ophelia replied in an undertone, growing aware of a teacher’s disapproving gaze at her gossiping during such an important ceremony. Andre noticed the unwanted attention as well, and leaned back into his own space, watching with his peers as the sorting proceeded.

*

“Ok, same number of Ravenclaws and Slytherins doesn’t mean I lost, right?” Andre picked up again almost as soon as the food had appeared in front of the students and the chatter started up again. The newest students now seated with their houses gasped in amazement at the sudden appearance of the feast, but were far from the last to help themselves. Ophelia rolled her eyes at him, spooning potatoes onto her plate.

“Still got beat out by Gryffindor, dummy, I told you” she jeered, forking beef into her mouth.

“Yeah but they got 2 more Weasleys, that’s like a freebie” retaliated Andre, piling his own plate with fish pie. “Lee’s not seeing a galleon from me, not tonight.” He added with a tone of finality, as if anyone were more invested in his bet than he was. Ophelia nodded, not really listening as she looked behind her to see the now 4 Weasleys sitting together, a tight-knit cluster of bright red hair. Charlie noticed her staring and waved cheerfully. Ophelia flashed him a thumb’s up for their newest Gryffindors. She had correctly predicted that Fred and George would be sorted into Gryffindor like their older brothers before them, and a part of her was extremely grateful that they hadn’t been sorted in Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff. Even if Tonks or Tulip didn’t take them on as their protégées, Ophelia wasn’t sure she would be able to handle a new set of trouble-makers. She was anticipating that her year would be busy enough as it was.

Ophelia’s eyes strayed to the Hufflepuff table at the far end of the hall. She could see Tonks animatedly speaking to some first years, but Ophelia couldn’t tell from this distance if she was helping them or trying to scare them with urban legends of the castle. Diego caught her eye and threw her a wink, which she willfully ignored. Her eyes continued to sweep the table for a sign of yellow plaited hair. As she had suspected, Penny was nowhere to be found at her table. Ophelia was willing to bet her entire Gringotts account that she was in the Grand Staircase interacting with the portrait of her trapped sister. Ophelia’s heart sank a little at the thought; she had no idea what condition Beatrice was in, and at this point she might even be unresponsive to visitors after a summer of little-to-no regular contact. Even though Penny had said that Dumbledore had ensured he was speaking with her and consulting with other specialists, Ophelia knew deep down that Beatrice was only going to get worse until they could free her properly by breaking the curse at its source.

As if alerted by her thoughts, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the center of the staff table and walked towards his podium near where the sorting hat and stool had been earlier. The hall once again filled with shushes and murmurs as he approached, and by the time he stood centered in front of the students of Hogwarts, the room was almost completely silent, save for the rain beating on the tall windows of the hall.

“Welcome, welcome students, to another year at Hogwarts. I offer my most sincere congratulations and well wishes to our first years who have just joined their houses. I trust each and every one of you will do your house justice, and in return your house will help you learn and grow into outstanding witches and wizards. We have a few items of business to attend to, and then I encourage you all to go about finishing the feast. First, I’d like to extend a warm welcome to Professor Glen Dordee, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Dumbledore turned from the hall and extended an arm towards the table, gesturing towards the wizard in question. The bright-eyed wizard stood up from his seat so quickly that he nearly knocked over his goblet. The hall was filled with a smattering of polite clapping; as the turnover for DADA was so high, people were apprehensive to give this man more or less credit than he had yet to prove. He nodded curtly to Professor Dumbledore in thanks and took one more sweeping look over the student body before he seated himself almost as quickly and recklessly as he had stood. Dumbledore smiled warmly before turning back to address the students again.

“Next, we are sorry to inform you that the portrait curse has yet to be lifted.” A wave of murmurs shot throughout the hall. A small chorus of “portrait curse?” rang from the uninitiated first years, while a resounding response of “Really? Still? What?” rang out from the rest of the student body who had already had to deal with a year of this. The hall dissolved into hundreds of conversations, from reassuring and explaining the curse to first years, to scared and worried objections from those close to those affected, to angry and indignant students who demanded better safety of their school.

“What about Rakepick? Why didn’t she break the curse?” an unknown voice from the Hufflepuff table shouted out, and a swell of agreement followed. Professor Dumbledore held up a hand, quieting the chatter that was starting to build again in the hall.

“As some of you may recall, Madam Rakepick has a career beyond the walls of this castle, and despite my many appeals, she has decided that her practice is best served elsewhere in the world.”

Another wave of chatter, this one considerably more indignant than the last, rose once again from the crowd.

“It was her job to stay and fix the curse! It’s not safe!” another voice called from the Slytherin table.

“Although it is the welcoming feast and I always welcome feedback, I will have to ask for no further interruptions, lest we need to start deducting house points before the term has even started,” Dumbledore responded calmly, although his eyes looked stern and serious behind his half-moon glasses. The mutters died down again, and every eye was fixed on Dumbledore for answers and information he was clearly not being forthright with. “As the curse is still unresolved, we will be continuing several safety measures from last year, which will stay in place until we, the staff and a team of professionals, deem them unnecessary. Students are advised to keep away from all portraits in the castle, save for portrait holes and passages. Professors will be tasked with walking their students between classes. Additionally, prefects will be required to escort students of their house throughout the castle before and after meals, to further minimize the risk of students going astray. And finally, and I urge this of _all_ you, do not attempt to break the curse yourself. It will undoubtedly be immeasurably dangerous, and is best to be left to their professionals.” Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, as if anticipating another interjection from the hall, but continued when there was none. “I apologize for the inconvenience and concern, and implore you to make the most of this year despite the circumstances. For now, enjoy the feast. In an hour, at 9, the 5th year prefects will be tasked with escorting any students from their houses who wish to retire to their dormitories for the night. At 10, the 6th year prefects will do the same, and so to the 7th years at 11. At midnight, all remaining students will be _required_ to leave the hall with the Head Boy and Head Girl and go directly to their dormitories. Students will not be allowed beyond their dormitories or the Great Hall tonight, save for travelling in between. Further instructions will follow as the term commences. Welcome again and have a splendid evening.”

Dumbledore had barely stepped away from the podium before the noise level in the hall grew louder than it had before his speech. Several first years could be seen crying at the prospect of being trapped (or in some misinformed cases, eaten) by any painting in the castle, and many of the older students were complaining loudly about the state of castle and their safety. Ophelia turned her attention back to her food, running through everything Dumbledore had said over and over in her mind.

“When Dumbledore said to leave the curse-breaking to the professionals and for no student to attempt to break the curse, do you think he meant except for me or especially for me?” Ophelia asked Rowan, her brow furrowed as she tried to recall Dumbledore’s exact phrasing.

“Not that I’m discouraging you, but I’m sure he meant especially you” Rowan said, tapping her chin thoughtfully

“What? Ophelia is definitely exempt, if anyone!” Tulip interjected. “’Leave it to the professionals?’ That’s obviously Ophelia! Rakepick selected her as her apprentice, and now that Rakepick and Bill are gone, Ophelia is definitely in charge!” Tulip continued, ticking her arguments off her fingers.

“Merula was also Rakepick’s apprentice” Ophelia said slowly, not even bothering to give Merula the satisfaction of looking over at her table for a response from her.

“Yeah, and do you think Merula is really wondering if Dumbledore meant no curse breaking except for or especially for her? No, that girl has probably already decided that she’s the leading professional at Hogwarts, even though she literally wouldn’t be able to break a curse if you took out the guards and held the door open for her. Ophelia is the only one who should be allowed to even think about the cursed vaults. Nothing Dumbledore just said applies to you whatsoever” Tulip said, slamming her palm against the table to drive her point home. Ophelia smiled gratefully at the high praise but sighed as she put down her utensils.

“Except for the part where I have to escort Ravenclaws to bed. I think I still have to do that…” she said, looking wistfully down the table. Her bubble bath in the prefects’ bathroom would just have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have very extensive faceclaims for all the characters I create or JC refuses to describe, and i see professor dordee as a really hyperactive daniel craig. His name comes from shakespeare's character Owen Glendower (based on the historical figure Owain Glyndŵr), said to be a great leader and powerful magician. Just thought that was a cool lil detail :3


	4. Everything Stays The Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm afraid to lose the truth  
>  I'm afraid to lose my youth  
> when every part of me was good  
> when every part of me was new  
> so little I knew_

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was buzzing with anticipation, as it usually was at the start of every school year. A new professor posed a lot of questions: would this class be easy or hard? Would the teacher rely more on theory or practical application? Is the teacher even competent? Does the teacher have an ulterior motive to teach this class? 5 years of previous teachers had answered each question in different ways. However, unlike Rakepick, who had been around the castle preceding her year of teaching, very few had actually heard of this mysterious new wizard. Ophelia had heard in low voices that he was a renown dueler and held several international titles under his belt, but she had also heard that he looked like the kind of guy who had just escaped from Azkaban, so she sat expectantly at her desk next to Rowan on the first day of class really ready for anything at this point.

The door leading to the professor’s office was unceremoniously thrown open. The classroom fell into a sudden hush, as students and professor locked eyes in silence. Professor Dordee stood in the doorway for a split second before turning to almost run down the stairs from the mezzanine and walk swiftly to the front of the classroom. Without even pausing to look at the class again he took a piece of chalk from the desk at the front and wrote his name across the top of the board. _Glenn Dordee_. He underlined his name with a stroke of finality, tossing the chalk aside, and finally he turned to face the class.

“Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts, I understand this is your first N.E.W.T. level class in this subject, and I will do my best to combine new curriculum with past review, but I should warn you that we will be moving at a rapid pace in this class and there is no time to go off-topic if we’re going to cover everything before June. I am aware that my position is notoriously short-lived, and I don’t want to risk any of you having to catch up on any shortcomings of this course next year during your N.E.W.T. exams. Any questions?” Professor Dordee’s diction was clear enough, but he spoke so fast that those who had started to pull out parchment and quills to take notes had already abandoned their attempts and were instead watching him with their full attention, scared of missing anything important. Professor Dordee’s pale eyes swept the classroom as he paced back and forth at the front of the room, looking for any inquiries.

“Yes, Ravenclaw in front?” Professor Dordee swiveled on the spot, pointing a long finger at Rowan, who’s hand hadn’t even been raised above her shoulder. The class was clearly impressed that he had managed to see Rowan in his peripheral vision, but maybe he had just taken an especially lucky guess, as Rowan’s reputation in classrooms preceded her. Rowan jumped a little at the sudden shift in attention, all eyes now on her. She lowered her hand slowly.

“How much of your class should we be taking notes on? It’s just, you’re speaking very fast and—”

“If you are writing while I am speaking then you are falling behind, and you will miss things.” Professor Dordee cut her off, addressing the entire classroom as he continued. “You are welcome to take notes from the text, as that will serve as your source for theory outside of class times. I will serve as your source for practical material, and as such during class time you will be expected to practice. Come exam time, you will be expected to be well versed in both - yes, Miss…?” Dordee turned his attention again to Rowan mid-sentence, who’s hand had made even less far than last time, barely even visible above the desk. He didn’t sound annoyed by her interruption, but his sudden undivided attention was unsettling.

“-Khanna, sir. Since the class is so fast-paced, how do you advise that we do not fall behind?” Rowan wasn’t carrying the same confidence she usually brought to the front desk of any classroom. She was clearly a little intimidated by the professor’s unrelenting stare. Even when he was standing still, some part of him always seemed to be moving, tuned into something beyond their perception.

“I trust that as 6th years you are familiar with office hours, the library, and the aid of your peers. I am here to teach you new material and occasionally review material from previous years that are relevant or essential to learning the new material. You are all in an N.E.W.T. level class, and I’m afraid to inform you that it’s sink or swim from here on out.” He turned his back to her and summoned his previously discarded chalk with a wordless flick of his wand. He began to write on the board under his name.

_Inferi_

_Dementors_

_Lethifolds_

_Patronus_

_Nonverbal Casting_

_Review:_

_Dueling_

_Unforgiveable Curses_

He had barely written the last word before he whipped around, wand out again and pointed towards the back of the room, where Gryffindor 2 students were passing a note between desks. The note incinerated to ash in in the passer’s hand halfway between the desks. All eyes darted to the back of the room, then back up to the front.

“5 points from Gryffindor. To answer your question, Miss Khanna, behavior like that is exactly how you will find yourself falling behind in class” Professor Dordee said, switching his attention from the students in the back, fleetingly to Rowan, and then back to the class at large. “Always be aware of your surroundings and always be ready to improvise. That is going to be a theme throughout this course and is applicable to everything I have written on the board. Look for small changes around you to see if something is wrong. If someone is casting at you nonverbally, act and react as fast as you can to deflect or attack. Never, I repeat, never, go into a duel with a plan, a list of spells you plan on using in order. Be flexible, be unpredictable. Everyone stand up and pair off.” He stopped in the center of the silent and motionless room for a beat. “Stand up!” he repeated as his students sat and watched him in awe before they scrambled to their feet to get into pairs and disperse themselves around the room. Professor Dordee moved from the front of the classroom, weaving quickly between the students and assessing the pairs as he addressed them all at once.

“You will be required to master nonverbal spellcasting in most, if not all, of your N.E.W.T.-level classes. As many of you may have inferred from a basic understanding of the English language, nonverbal means without speaking. This includes whispering, muttering, or opening your mouth for any reason at all. This is accomplished through focus and intent. You must focus very hard on what spell you are trying to cast, and then cast it with intention. The incantation is still very important at this point, but masters of nonverbal spells are able to cast by focusing on the purpose and the power of the spell rather than the name of the spell itself. Today one person in each group should try to hex or jinx their opponent, and the other person will attempt to block or deflect. For now, stick to either attacking or defending. In future lessons, there will be no assignment, and you will need to think fast and improvise on the spot in order to decide in that second whether you need to attack, defend, or sneak through a defense all without speaking. You have until the end of class for practice. Proceed.”

The rest of the class was, unsurprisingly, almost entirely silent, as students hesitated for a second, trying to take in their instructions as Professor Dordee continued to snake throughout the classroom, eyes constantly moving. Many were mentally stumped, trying to comprehend how they were supposed to just start casting magic at an N.E.W.T. level after less than a minute of actual instruction.

Rowan and Ophelia stood 5 feet apart, facing each other in a front corner of the room. Rowan had been tasked with attacking Ophelia, and Ophelia was trying very hard to just focus on the shield charm at all times without casting prematurely. Rowan’s face was starting to flush a little with the physical effort she was putting into concentrating on whatever spell she was trying to cast. Around them, several students looked similarly hyper-focused, with their eyes bulging and their wands pushed forcefully in front of them as if they could squeeze the magic out. In the silence of the classroom, several students could be heard trying to discreetly whisper their spells, which was a surefire way to summon Professor Dordee to their side to oversee their attempts.

Beyond Rowan, Tonks successfully and unexpectedly managed to fire off a stunning spell. Barnaby, who was caught entirely off guard and unready to defend himself, ducked to the ground, leaving Rowan exposed to the spell she didn’t see coming.

“Protego!” Ophelia cried, her wand pointed over Rowan’s shoulder, deflecting the stunning spell aimed directly for Rowan’s back. Several heads turned at her loud incantation, watching as the stunning spell dissipated into red sparks and her shield charm faded. Ophelia felt her face burn, her own piercing voice echoing in her head while the room stared at her silently.

“I thought I was clear on the nature of nonverbal spellcasting,” Professor Dordee said from halfway across the room. Ophelia blushed furiously, unable to piece together an excuse under the stares of the teacher and the rest of the class. Tonks looked extremely apologetic. “However, your reflexes are commendable, given the attack was not directed at you, and I’m glad to see at least one thing I taught today has sunk in. 5 points to Ravenclaw for spontaneity and improvisation, and 5 points to Hufflepuff for an effective, albeit misdirected nonverbal cast. It serves as an excellent example of intent without focus. If you are not focusing on every aspect of your spellcasting, from the incantation in your mind to channeling it through your wand, then the spell will not be controlled. Continue”

The rest of the class was more of the same tense silence, although a few students managed to stun their opponents, and a few more managed to cast premature shield charms against spells their partners hadn’t even cast yet. Two or three pairs had managed to cast and deflect in unison, earning a handful of points each. By the time the bell rang to indicate the next class block, everyone seemed to have some comprehension of the required mindset. Once the students poured out of the silent class, they were immediately chattering amongst themselves, comparing notes on their success at nonverbal casting, or, in most cases, comparing thoughts on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“That was really intense,” breathed Tulip once they were out of earshot of the classroom. “I thought Rakepick was fast-paced and ruthless but that was ridiculous.” Rowan hummed in agreement, clearly still a little put-off by how quickly and patronizingly Professor Dordee had shut down her inquiries at the start of the class. Ophelia offered no rebuttal. She had certainly been a bit overwhelmed by the pace of the class, but she couldn’t deny that everything Professor Dordee had said made a lot of sense. Class was for practice, homework was for theory, stay vigilant, and stay unpredictable so people can’t catch you off guard when you get too comfortable. It was a paranoid way to go about things, she had to admit, but a little extra caution wouldn’t go amiss these days.

Rowan and Tulip were still discussing avidly amongst themselves as they entered the Great Hall for lunch, evidentially unphased by Ophelia’s lack of input. Andre, who was not in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class and had enjoyed a free period before lunch, could be seen speaking with Professor Flitwick while he sat at the Ravenclaw table. Flitwick’s attention turned to Rowan, Ophelia, and Tulip as they approached the table.

“Fantastic, fantastic timing. As you may recall from your O.W.L. letters and our discussions last year, you are all due for a follow-up career consultation. We will be going over your O.W.L. scores and seeing if your original goals are still attainable.” He brandished a piece of parchment almost as long as his body and offered a quill to each of the girls. The parchment had a long timetable on it, outlining 20-minute blocks for students to sign up for. There were very few slots available, and Ophelia, Rowan, and Tulip ended up signing consecutively near the top, a notably unpopular timeframe that cut into their first class block tomorrow morning: double potions. Not to say that career advice wasn’t a valid excuse, but no one wanted to start their year off on Snape’s bad side, especially at N.E.W.T. level.

Flitwick, apparently satisfied with their timeslots, moved on further down the table, addressing more 6th year students as they entered the hall. Tulip groaned melodramatically as they all took their seats and began helping themselves to food.

“Snape’s going to be furious about us missing in potions,” she grumbled.

“You’re second on the list, you can still make it to the first 20 minutes of class,” Rowan offered helpfully.

“It takes nearly 20 minutes to get from potions to Flitwick’s office, there’s really no point in me showing up to the first part of potions,” Tulip rebuffed.

“It barely takes 10 if you take a portrait shortcut and walk really quickly” Rowan suggested, but Tulip scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“If they’re going to insist that I avoid as many portraits as possible, I’m going to take the long way around,” Tulip snapped, a mischievous glint in her eye contradicting the irritation she clearly didn’t really feel with the situation. Rowan, having finally caught onto Tulip’s true feelings and intentions, huffed deeply and rolled her own eyes. Ophelia realized it was probably up to her as a prefect to encourage Tulip to take her attendance seriously and avoid annoying Snape, but she was far too concerned about what she would discuss with Professor Flitwick to worry about a little truancy. She had managed to land enough O.W.L.s to carry her into any career she wanted at this point. However, she had honestly defaulted on curse-breaking. Now that she had plenty of careers available to her, she was coming to the realization that she was just settling for what she knew. For the first time since before she had opened her O.W.L. scores, Ophelia was riddled with anxiety and self-doubt over her career prospects. It was definitely a good thing she was going to be able to discuss this with Flitwick first thing tomorrow morning.

*

“Do you think it’s too late to bail on Flitwick?” Ophelia anxiously asked Tulip, who was standing next to her outside of Flitwick’s office. The crowd in the hallway outside the charms classroom was starting to thin out, with classes starting in only a few minutes. A few minutes until Ophelia’s appointment.

“If you do, can I take your slot and not tell Snape?” Tulip asked hopefully, but she immediately offered an encouraging smile. Tulip had her own misgivings about her professional future, but she was sure Ophelia needed all the advice she could get at this point. Faced with the prospect of a reevaluation, Ophelia had only recently realized how unhelpful and indecisive she would be at her own career counseling review. What should have been an easy follow-up to her promising trajectory towards world-renown curse-breaker was rapidly dissolving into a very complicated analysis of her completely ignored personal long-term goals. No wonder nobody wanted the first available slots. She just needed a little more time, a few more weeks maybe, to sort through her thoughts and emotions. Maybe a few letters to Bill, maybe wait until after the next time she could get to see him in person. It really was bullshit to let a 16-year-old make choices like these in the middle of their education.

“Excellent, right on time!” a squeaky voice behind them sounded, announcing the arrival of Professor Flitwick. He paused, looking at Tulip suspiciously. “Miss Karasu, you’re early, and surely missing more class than necessary right now.”

“I didn’t want to be late,” Tulip said, looking down at her feet. “Potions is pretty far away, and I didn’t want to cut into anyone’s time.” Tulip sounded genuinely concerned and just a little apologetic, and it took a second for Ophelia to realize that Tulip wasn’t being facetious to get out of class. Apparently, this career advice session meant just as much to her as it did to Ophelia. Flitwick seemed to have picked up on this as well, or maybe he was just giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“Very well, Miss Karasu, please stay inside the classroom until I’m finished talking with Miss Fawley. Although I admire your commitment to this review, I trust you will be making up the effort in Professor Snape’s class when you return immediately after our meeting.” Tulip nodded at Flitwick’s words, her face entirely serious. “Right then, come inside, Miss Fawley.” Professor Flitwick opened the door to his office with a flick of his wand, gesturing for Ophelia to lead them inside.

Ophelia sat at the chair in front of Professor Flitwick’s desk. She had sat here many times before, usually immediately following breaking a slew of school rules and awaiting punishment. Flitwick took his own seat behind the desk, elevated considerably so that he was at eye-level with Ophelia. In front of him was a stack of student files and an array of career pamphlets. Ophelia saw her name at the top of the stack, ready to be reviewed. With a flick of Professor Flitwick’s wand, the papers from her file began to float and shuffle in front of him, offering their information as it became pertinent to the conversation.

“Well, Miss Fawley, I’ll have you know I was delighted by your O.W.L. scores. No failing marks in any exams you took, and especially high marks in your core classes. Your charms score was especially well-deserved, and it’s been a pleasure to watch you continue to thrive at an N.E.W.T. level.” Flitwick said, smiling kindly as he looked through Ophelia’s documents. Ophelia wondered exactly how detailed her file was. Was it a superficial academic account of her as a student, or was Flitwick holding every individual test score and rule-breaking offense that had defined her Hogwarts career so far?

“Now,” Flitwick continued once he had finished reviewing Ophelia’s file and it had set itself down neatly between them, “are you still interested in a career as a curse-breaker?

“No.” Ophelia replied much too quickly. Flitwick looked taken aback. “I mean, I don’t know. I thought I did, and I was really pleased with my O.W.L. scores because I got everything I needed to get, but then… I wasn’t sure? I could be a healer or, or an auror, or a shopkeeper with these scores, but I don’t know!” Ophelia fell silent as she stopped to catch her breath. Professor Flitwick eyed her patiently, remaining silent as she worked to regather her thoughts rather than redirect her with a rebuttal or leading questions.

“I’m just… worried… that I’m settling too quickly for a career just because it’s what everyone expects of me,” Ophelia finally managed to articulate after gathering a headful of conflicting emotions. Flitwick nodded quietly, gesturing for her to continue. “I’m scared of asking my friends and teachers and mum for advice because everyone has a bias. They either think I should go into curse-breaking because I wouldn’t have to change anything after leaving school, and everyone else thinks I should definitely not go into curse-breaking because I’ve already caused enough trouble in that field.” Ophelia took another deep breath. “I don’t know what I want to do anymore, and I don’t know when I’ll know. Maybe curse-breaking is exactly right for me, but if I choose it then I’d want it to be because I wanted to do it, not because I was thrown into it against my will. I feel like I’ll just always be wondering whether I should have chosen anything else instead of chosen what was easy.” She stopped and looked at Flitwick expectantly, entirely unsure of how he was going to process her thoughts and advise on them. Flitwick folded his hands and looked at Ophelia, his tone sympathetic but serious.

“You are obviously not the first student I’ve had who has been overwhelmed by their options in the wizarding world. Many students like yourself have been heavily influenced by the careers they were exposed to early and often. Ministry, craftsman, athletic, and healer legacies are common. What became common for you is admittedly… uncommon. Curse-breaking is generally not an ideal environment for a child, but in that way, you may be lucky that you found something you naturally excel at and even seem to enjoy. That is a gift in career searching.” Ophelia nodded as she considered this, and Flitwick continued. “My fear for you right now is that you may be attempting to self-sabotage yourself. If you can find an excuse to not do curse-breaking, then you’ll latch onto that excuse and hide behind it as the opportunity to be a curse-breaker passes you by. I’ve seen it in countless students who were afraid to commit to a promising career and I can say that unfortunately I can see this behavior coming from you. For what it’s worth, I think you would make a fantastic curse-breaker, and you know that you would too.” Professor Flitwick pushed a pamphlet towards Ophelia. It was considerably more detailed than the one she had received before taking her O.W.L.s and outlined many of her next steps in pursuing the career. Ophelia took the pamphlet and grinned at her head of house.

“You really think I’m a great curse-breaker?” Ophelia asked. No professor had ever told her that before, other than Rakepick. She had always thought the professors saw her as little more than a rule-breaking kid who didn’t respect the boundaries set in place for her own safety. It felt weird to hear it in a positive context. Professor Flitwick smiled again.

“Your record speaks for itself. Behind every detention, letter home, and point deduction is a school-plaguing curse successfully broken by you. I would, of course, not try to glean such praise from many of your other professors-“ the subtle tilt of his head and Ophelia’s understanding nod indicated a mutual acknowledgement of Snape- “but do not forget that you are very good at what you do. Although I value your safety above all else and insist you respect the school rules if you want to avoid a serious risk of expulsion, I do believe that if anyone can break this portrait curse and find your brother, it’s you.” Professor Flitwick tapped the side of his nose. This part of the conversation was obviously meant to stay just between them, proud teacher to rebellious pupil.

A timer behind Ophelia near the door chimed, indicating their time was up. Flitwick silenced it with another flick of his wand, simultaneously opening the door to his office out into the classroom. Tulip was still waiting at a desk near the door, unmoved for the last 20 minutes. She jumped to her feet, and Ophelia saw her cue to leave.

“Thank you, Professor. I appreciate everything you’ve said,” Ophelia said, clutching the curse-breaking pamphlet to her chest. Flitwick handed her a signed slip from a stack on his desk to excuse her from her time missed in class, which Ophelia received with further thanks. She turned on her heel and exited the office, offering the same encouraging smile to Tulip that Tulip had given her earlier. Tulip still looked somber, but gave a small grin in response to Ophelia’s clearly heightened mood. The door closed behind Tulip, and Ophelia left the classroom, turning to take the shortest route she knew to the potions classroom. Flitwick may have made her day, but she wouldn’t put it past Snape to try to bring it down again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys i know these first several chapters are super exposition-heavy, but I want to lay down as much groundwork as possible for when shit pops off. This entire fic will ideally cover all of Ophelia's 6th and 7th years, and i want to pace myself appropriately. thanks for sticking it out this long with me <3


	5. Idle Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And now we're kicking up to seventh gear  
>  And we're breathing in the atmosphere  
> I don't even need a sip of beer  
> I can feel it all_

“Contrary to what you may have thought in past years, tardiness is unacceptable in this class, and grounds for dismissal at an N.E.W.T. level” Snape sneered before Ophelia had even completely gotten through the door. In Ophelia’s defense, she had booked it all the way to the dungeons from the charms classroom and had missed just under 30 minutes of class. Her fellow students watched her as she entered, 4 people to a table each working around their own individual steaming cauldrons. Ophelia held up the signed slip from Flitwick, and Snape wordlessly held out a pallid hand for further inspection. Ophelia jogged up to the front of the class and handed him the slip, which he scrutinized for a second before tossing it on his desk with another sneer.

“I advise you to give warning before you plan on missing lessons. There will be no opportunities to make-up classes, and today is no exception. You will be expected to finish your draught of living death by the end of class, just like the rest of your classmates.” Ophelia nodded wordlessly, knowing better than to argue back. She headed towards the table where Penny, Ben, Rowan, and Tonks were working, anticipating that she would be substituting for Rowan’s spot when Rowan left for her career advice, but a third audible sneer stopped her in her tracks.

“I think... not” Snape said, a long pale finger pointing towards the table nearest him. Ophelia’s stomach dropped to see Merula at the table, a sneer on her face to rival Snape’s. Ophelia swallowed back any argument or protest she wanted to say in response, and marched back towards the front of the classroom, chin up and eyes slightly to the right of Merula’s head.

Ophelia was seldom grateful for a double potions class, but the draught of living death was notoriously difficult, and she would need the full hour and a half class time to compensate for the 20-odd minutes she had already missed. In theory, she could finish this potion on time if she made no mistakes at all and also worked as quickly as humanly possible. She sat herself in the only available seat at the table, next to Merula, and pulled an empty cauldron out from under the table. Across from her sat an unacquainted Gryffindor girl, and on her other side sat a surly looking Slytherin boy. Wasting no time, she set about preparing her ingredients.

“Typical Fawley, rolling in late and riding on the coattails of everyone else” Merula muttered so that only Ophelia could hear. Ophelia said nothing, not wanting to give her or Snape an excuse to make an example of her, but her mind was racing with the insults and retorts she wished she could throw back. Ophelia was concocting her own potion, so Merula’s snide comments were falling flat at her feet. However, Ophelia also wouldn’t put it past Merula to sabotage her potion to try to get Snape to deduct the points he was already more than happy to take. It wouldn’t be the first time. Merula narrowed her eyes at Ophelia, sure that she had heard her taunting. “Did you just finish with career advice? I’ll bet you’d be underqualified to take Filch’s job,” Merula continued to jeer, slightly louder to make sure that Ophelia definitely heard her.

“Unless you are explicitly discussing the potion at hand, I suggest you keep your conversations to a minimum. You can play catch-up outside of my classroom,” Snape drawled from the front of the classroom, his dark eyes fixed on Merula. Merula flushed and ducked her head, busying herself with crushing the sopophorous bean and keeping her eyes on the board behind Snape. Ophelia allowed herself a secret smug grin as she reviewed the recipe again. It had been a good while since Merula had been called out for being terrible.

She suddenly paused, reading and rereading the instructions in the book to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her in the thick smog of the room. There was definitely some discrepancy between the instructions in the book and what Snape had written on the board. Had Snape transcribed the instructions incorrectly? Surely in a potion like this it was dangerous to stray from what the book said…

“Miss Fawley, focus on your potion. This lesson will be graded pass/fail and if you are so incompetent that you cannot follow the instructions in front of you then you are welcome to save us both the time in grading your potion,” Snape scorned, taking Ophelia aback. She looked up at Snape, unaware that he had been watching her as her gaze darted between the book at the blackboard. Unwilling to give him any more reason to punish her, Ophelia threw caution to the wind and opted to follow Snape’s instructions to the letter. Any failure experienced at her hand would be per whatever Snape had written. Ignoring Merula’s own technique and questioning glances, she set about slicing up her sopophorous bean rather than crushing it to extract the needed juice.

At the end of the class, the room was filled with steam so dense it looked as though you could cut through it with a knife. Ophelia couldn’t see the contents of the cauldrons around her, but she was personally satisfied with the pale pink concoction she had produced in the limited time. It was admittedly a little more saturated that she would have liked, but in her opinion, it definitely merited a pass. Professor Snape weaved throughout the classroom like a dark bird on a cloudy night. He stopped in front of her table and peered into everyone’s cauldrons from overhead. He wordlessly tore a leaf of some unspecified herb and threw it into each cauldron, watching the effects. The leaf in Ophelia’s cauldron appeared to dry out and shrivel up, leaving behind the desiccated veins to float at the surface.

“Stay after class” Snape said emotionlessly before moving onto the cauldron next to her’s. Merula looked as though Christmas had come early. She was grinning gleefully at Ophelia, leaving Ophelia to stand in shock and confusion. She was positive that her potion was close to perfect, and that Merula had been given no chance to interfere. Before she could argue, Snape had already moved onto the next table.

“Wow Fawley, you must have really messed up this time. Just goes to show you can’t compete with the most powerful witch at Hogwarts,” Merula snickered. Ophelia leaned over Merula’s potion before Merula could stop her. Her’s was notably more lavender than pink, and the leaf at the top hadn’t dried out to the same extent as the one in her own cauldron. Surely her potion had performed better than Merula’s, so why was she being unjustly held back? Ophelia was internally fuming as she ladled her potion into a flask for further grading. After leaving the potion on Snape’s desk, she watched forlornly as her friends all gathered up their bags and left the room without her, while she delayed at her empty table for whatever Snape wanted.

Snape waited until every student had left the room before closing the door to the corridor outside. With the potions sealed in vials and the remaining contents of the cauldrons vanished, the steam in the room had thinned considerably. Snape walked briskly towards his desk and faced Ophelia, who stayed in place behind her table, trying to keep her face as unreadable as possible.

“Your occlumency skills have depleted considerably since last term,” Snape said. “Even if you’re not going to talk back to people, don’t scream it in your mind. You’re just as vulnerable as you would have been if you’d been talking out loud.” Ophelia was caught entirely off guard.

“This isn’t about my potion?” Ophelia asked incredulously.

“Your potion was surprisingly adequate,” Snape ceded, “but your ability to close your mind off and control your thoughts is still thoroughly inadequate. I assume you have worked neither on your occlumency nor your legilimancy over the summer?”

Ophelia shook her head no. It had honestly never occurred to her to practice it at the burrow. Everyone there was so honest and open that she had never once considered prying into their minds. She was sure Bill or Charlie would have gladly let her practice on them, but she had never thought to ask.

“Your summer company is of no interest to me,” Snape said, and Ophelia’s eyes widened, realizing he was reading her thoughts in real-time, and had likely been doing so for much of the lesson. “Do you see how easy this is for me, how easy it could be for anyone who wanted to access your mind, your thoughts, control you from the inside-out?” Ophelia actively tried to blank her mind, and she thought she was succeeding, but memories of the Weasleys and her carefree summer kept popping up. She wasn’t sure if it was unconscious or if Snape was actively rooting through her mind to prove a point.

“Alright, I’m sorry I haven’t practiced,” Ophelia said indignantly. “I’ll work on it this term.”

“This isn’t for my benefit, Miss Fawley. We both know there are forces within this school that actively want you dead. Patricia Rakepick abandoned you, as I said she would, and a protected mind may be the only upper hand you have against an unknown enemy whose primary form of attack is _possession._ ” Snape snapped at her. Ophelia’s mouth opened for a second, but her retort was lost on her tongue. Snape made several great points, even if he made them rather condescendingly. Snape turned his back to her with a dramatic swish of his cloak, still addressing her as he made his way towards his office. “You will continue your legilimancy and occlumency lessons with me this year, per Dumbledore’s request. You will receive messages with times and dates when I am available to teach you, and you are expected to attend every lesson, no exceptions. I cannot stress this enough, _this is not for my benefit._ Please leave my classroom.” His office door slammed behind him, and Ophelia did not need to be told twice to leave. Bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder, she bolted for the door, eager to get far away from the dungeons and Snape’s invasive mind games as fast as possible.

*

The rest of Ophelia’s day following her after-class meeting with Snape did not improve her mood in the slightest. As she had been warned by older students and her professors from the day before, N.E.W.T. level magic was much, much more advanced and was far more demanding than she had anticipated. Her professors were making sure of that as soon as they possibly could. Arithmancy, which Ophelia had previously thought she had a pretty solid understanding of, threw her for a loop almost as soon as she had opened her new textbook and was faced with entirely new alphabets and numbering systems. Professor Sinistra had started astronomy class by introducing them to distant stars and systems well beyond the scope of human perception, reminding Ophelia of what Tonks had said about her preference for the moon, and that maybe Tonks had been right in dropping the class. Even care of magical creatures, which was usually fairly enjoyable and easygoing, if sometimes rather dangerous and smelly, was far less engaging than usual as Professor Kettleburn prattled on about the hundreds of indistinguishable bowtruckle variations for most of the lesson. It was only the first week of the term, and Ophelia was starting to feel the weight of her N.E.W.T.s. She felt especially bad for Rowan, who had ambitiously taken on all 12 classes at an N.E.W.T. level in addition to her position on the quidditch team and aspirations to become head girl.

“I know we just finished summer break, but I’m ready for another vacation,” Ophelia cried dramatically as she practically threw herself at the dinner table next to Tulip. Tulip seemed to be in a much better mood than she had been that morning before her career counseling, but she hadn’t offered any insight as to what she and Professor Flitwick had discussed in his office, so Ophelia had refrained from inquiring. Ophelia had been among the last to make it to dinner, as she had had to trek towards the great hall from the grounds where care of magical creatures was held. The hall was almost entirely full at this point and reverberating with excited chatter as students compared their first few days of classes with one another.

Tulip nodded but said nothing, watching as Ophelia loaded her plate with dinner while still complaining about her course load. She was happy to let Ophelia talk about her day if it meant she was willing to ignore her strange mood from that morning and not discuss what she had divulged to Flitwick.

Ophelia was halfway through her umpteenth complaint about how all bowtruckles look exactly the same when Professor McGonagall appeared dramatically at the doorway to the Great Hall. She walked swiftly through the middle of the hall towards the staff table, and conversations slowed and stilled as she passed. Many heads turned to watch her, as this was really the fastest many had ever seen her move. She was caught somewhere between a powerwalk and a jog, her eyes dead ahead and her expression stern. Professor Dumbledore caught her eye and watched her as she rounded the table and spoke into his ear, her words completely inaudible to the rest of the hall. The hall waited with baited breath, knowing that something must be terribly wrong, or at the very least awfully exciting. Professor Dumbledore nodded gravely and rose from his seat from behind the table. Professor McGonagall stood beside him, watching over the students rather than taking her seat next to him.

“Students, I regret to inform you that another student has become trapped in a portrait in the grand staircase,” Dumbledore announced, his calm voice somehow magically magnified over the silent hall. “I must reiterate, stay wary of your surroundings and avoid non-portal portraits as best you can. Prefects and head students will be escorting their houses back to their dormitories over the next 3 hours in a similar fashion as the night of the welcome feast. I’m afraid that due to the curse’s enduring imprisonment of our students, this protocol will be ongoing for all meals and passing periods until further notice. I apologize for the inconvenience this may pose to some students, but nothing is more important than everyone’s safety until the curse can be broken.”

Dumbledore sat back down, and as he did the heads of houses dispatched from the staff table, making their way down the house tables to take student headcounts and brief their prefects again. Ophelia gazed down the table in search of Andre, before remembering that he and Rowan were at quidditch practice this evening. Her stomach dropped, wondering if one of her friends was the latest victim of the portrait curse. She shook the thought, clinging to the hope that her friends had known her long enough and were smart enough in their own rights that they wouldn’t get themselves caught in a painting.

Professor Flitwick approached Ophelia as he went down the table, trying to take a tally of his students from his lower vantage point. “Because Mr. Egwu is at quidditch practice, you will be expected to escort students alone at the hour after next, Miss Fawley” Professor Flitwick squeaked, barely stopping in front of her to address her before he continued walking.

“Who was trapped in a portrait?” Ophelia called after him, her curiosity getting the better of her. She needed to know her friends were safe.

“A Slytherin 2nd year,” Professor Flitwick responded grimly, pausing his walk down the table to address her again. “Surrounding portraits suggested that he had sought to investigate the curse himself, and inadvertently got trapped in the process. Such a consequence should have been expected, especially after the headmaster’s speech. The portrait in question is well out of the way of Ravenclaw Tower, so there should be no reason for me to find you anywhere near it.” He continued walking, and Ophelia turned back to Tulip, the anxious knots in her stomach loosened with relief at the knowledge that the latest victim wasn’t a friend or a housemate. However, she was also irritated at Flitwick’s deterring her from investigating the latest portrait.

“I don’t get it,” she huffed to Tulip in an undertone as she returned to eating her dinner with considerably more force than she had before. “During our career review he said I was a great curse-breaker and that I was probably the only chance Hogwarts had of freeing these students. Now he doesn’t want me anywhere near the portrait. I can’t tell if he’s encouraging me to break the curse or warning me to keep away.” Tulip raised an eyebrow.

“Flitwick said that?” she asked, forking potatoes in her mouth, peering over Ophelia’s shoulder to get another look at Flitwick, who was now addressing other prefects further down the table. She shook her head in disbelief. Ophelia rolled her eyes.

“He said something along those lines, but I think you’re missing the point here. The curse is still active and dangerous, and we also don’t know how much time we have before the students trapped last year are lost completely. Bea-” Ophelia turned around to make sure no one else was listening before ducking her head so only Tulip could hear her, “-Bea’s not doing as well as Penny and Dumbledore have been saying. Penny’s been next to her portrait every spare minute, I’ve seen her during my patrols, but I don’t think Beatrice can see or hear her anymore. She doesn’t try to get out of the portrait anymore, like she’s catatonic. I can’t tell if she’s given up and accepted that she’s trapped, or if she doesn’t really realize that she’s still trapped. Even if we free her today, I’m worried she won’t be… all there.” Tulip munched thoughtfully as Ophelia said this, her eyes straying to the Hufflepuff table. True to Ophelia’s word, Penny was nowhere to be seen. She looked back at Ophelia, her concerned expression turned stony and serious.

“What’s your plan?” Tulip asked. It wasn’t a question of doubt; it was a request for orders. A soldier addressing their captain. Ophelia lowered her head into her hands, massaging her forehead with the base of her palms. It would be reckless to try to continue curse-breaking alone, and she owed it to every trapped student and Penny to put her pride behind her. However, she was loathe to how limited her current options were.

“You’re not going to like it, Tulip” she finally said, and before Tulip could inquire further, Ophelia stood from the table and marched purposefully towards the Slytherin Table.

Merula’s eyes were fixed on Ophelia long before Ophelia had even managed to spot her in the crowd. Mutters followed Ophelia from both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw table and she strode towards Merula, never breaking eye contact. Ophelia tuned them out. Ignoring the stares of other Slytherins around her, Ophelia took the seat opposite Merula, her jaw clenched and her brow furrowed. Merula folded her hands and leaned across the table until their faces were only inches apart.

“Took you long enough, Fawley.“ Merula said with a smug smirk, her magenta eyes glinting.


	6. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's been a hard time, a long day  
>  Our minds they play over and over again  
> And I call myself a friend  
> While you call yourself a stranger_

“You’re late,” Andre said as Ophelia came sprinting down the dimly lit dungeon corridor towards him.

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry,” Ophelia panted, hands on her knees as she doubled over to catch her breath. She had run all the way from Ravenclaw tower down to the edge of the dungeons as soon as she had finished escorting students after dinner. Over a week had passed since the portrait curse had claimed another victim, and Ophelia and Andre had both done their fair share of running around the castle to escort students between classes, the Great Hall, and Ravenclaw Tower. Tonight, however, was the first dueling club meeting of the year, so Andre had shepherded its Ravenclaw members directly down to the dungeons after dinner, while Ophelia had been tasked with escorting the rest of the students all the way up through the castle before running back down again. It had now gone 8pm, and dueling club was bound to start without them if she didn’t pick herself up again quickly.

After another few seconds of deep breaths, Ophelia pulled herself back up to her full height and nodded, allowing Andre to lead the pair around the corner and into the classroom reserved for the meeting.

The classroom was definitely large enough to host the meeting. It was nearly the size of the kitchens and was lit far better than the hallways outside, with several hanging lights and roaring fireplaces in each wall. House banners and suits of armor lined the perimeter of the room. Rather than wonder what purpose a large room like this would have in the dungeons, Ophelia was instead caught off guard by the sheer number of attendees. Students from every year in every house were standing around the room, speaking amongst themselves. She caught sight of her friends standing on the other side of the room. Rowan, Penny, Ben, Tulip, and Tonks were all chatting cheerfully amongst each other, while a few feet to their side, Barnaby, Charlie, Ismelda, and Merula were all speaking in much lower, austere tones. At the center of the classroom, Professor Dordee was standing at the back of a long, raised platform that nearly bisected the room, silently overlooking the students in attendance.

“Ophelia, lovely, you’re here!” Ophelia turned to see Diego Caplan, the Hufflepuff prefect she had met on the train, run up to greet her as she and Andre entered. He grasped her arm enthusiastically, dragging her and Andre further into the room among the other students.

“You haven’t started yet?” Ophelia asked, glancing down at her wristwatch in surprise. It was indeed several minutes past 8pm.

“Of course not, we couldn’t start without the Ravenclaw coach,” Diego responded, flashing her a dazzling smile. Ophelia’s eyebrows shot up in confusion.

“Ravenclaw… coach… what-?” Ophelia began to ask, but Diego had turned around and waved towards Professor Dordee, who nodded curtly in response and stepped towards the center of the platform, putting him in full view of everyone in the room. Ophelia tried to garner Diego’s attention again for some semblance of an explanation, but Diego had left her side and had jumped onto the platform to stand at Professor Dordee’s side. The room quieted down as all eyes turned to face their faculty head.

“Thank you all for attending this meeting, it is reassuring to know that so many of you have come to train and learn among your peers,” Professor Dordee said to the room, speaking in the same clear, rapid diction he used for his classes. “We will be meeting every other Wednesday night in order to avoid conflict with other major organizations, including quidditch, frog choir, and gobstones. The purpose of this club is to train in a safe, monitored environment, develop your techniques and skills, and learn a few spells outside of the curriculum. I can assure you that all of you have plenty to glean from this club, especially from your older members. You may already know your student captain and Hufflepuff coach, Mr. Caplan-” He gestured towards Diego, who smiled and waved around the room, shooting several winks into the crowd, “-who will be serving as my opponent for most demonstrations.” The room clapped encouragingly for their student leader.

“Your other house coaches are Mr. Lee of Slytherin—" Professor Dordee gestured towards Barnaby, who waved enthusiastically from his corner of the room, his large, intimidating frame contrasting with the gleeful smile plastered on his face. He was already a well-known fighter, both magical and physical, throughout the school, and was greeted by a smattering of polite applause from throughout the room, albeit mostly from other Slytherins and no one else. “-Miss Myers of Gryffindor—" a pretty, tall blonde girl that Ophelia recognized as the 7th year Gryffindor prefect waved from where she was standing on the other side of the room. She flashed a smile to rival Diego’s, meriting considerably louder and more enthusiastic applause from the room. “-And Miss Fawley of Ravenclaw.” Ophelia, still unsure of what was happening, awkwardly raised her hand as if registering herself present in class rather than greeting a room full of her protégés. She was met with applause that seemed almost as confused as she was, although it was punctuated by several enthusiastic whoops from Rowan.

“These four students are among the best duelers that Hogwarts has to offer and will be your best resources for advice and training in the club. Starting next meeting, we will be dueling among ourselves and using what we have learned to better our methods. Later in the year, we will be holding tournaments within the club for opportunities at house points and other prizes. For now, however, wand out, Mr. Caplan” Professor Dordee turned on his heel to face Diego at the center of the platform. He towered over Diego by nearly a foot, but his posture suggested he was facing an equivalent adversary rather than a teenaged pupil. “Tonight, I will be dueling Mr. Caplan as a demonstration. When the duel is finished, we will collectively take notes on how to improve.” He and Diego raised their wands up to their faces and bowed in a well-practiced fashion before spinning and taking several paces in opposite directions. Diego ended up near Ophelia and Andre’s side of the room, several feet to Ophelia’s right and elevated a few feet by the platform. Professor Dordee stood at the other end of the platform close to where he had waited at the beginning of the meeting. The club members all made their way towards the edges of the platform, eager to see how this duel would play out. Both Diego and Professor Dordee assumed the dueling stances, their wands raised high and directed at the other.

After a few silent seconds, without warning, Professor Dordee shot a jinx at Diego halfway through taking a large step to the side. Diego, to his credit, managed to dodge the jinx, which dissipated several feet behind its intended target. He twisted himself gracefully, his feet moving over the platform as though he were floating. Before he had completely straightened himself again, he shot a retaliating spell over his shoulder back at his teacher. Professor Dordee threw up a defensive spell before rapidly shooting another jinx towards Diego. Diego, caught off guard by his professor’s quick and silent movements, stumbled a little in dodging the spell. He was unable to right himself as another spell came his way and hit him in the chest, knocking him back several feet. Quickly regaining his composure, Diego shot another spell back with an elaborate flourish of his wand. This spell hit Dordee in the shoulder. The resulting loud bang, flash of light, and puff of smoke was effectively harmless, but the effect was certainly distracting. Diego took the opportunity while his Professor was caught off guard to shoot another more aggressive jinx, but Professor Dordee instead ducked and ran towards the center of the platform. Diego, a little alarmed by Dordee’s advance down the platform, took several steps backwards. Dordee shot one last spell at Diego from his crouched running position, which sent Diego flying the remaining few feet. He landed soundly at the very end of the platform against the wall of onlookers. By the time he had gathered his bearings and rolled over, wand in hand, Professor Dordee was standing at the center of the platform, his wand pointed directly at Diego in a clear checkmate. Ceding victory, Diego nodded and raised a hand for help up, which Professor Dordee took and hauled him to his feet. The room was filled with a smattering of polite applause again, which was almost immediately silenced by a raise of Professor Dordee’s hand.

“How did I defeat Mr. Caplan?” he asked the room. The students all stood in silence for a few seconds, replaying the short duel over in their minds looking for an answer.

“You shot first?” Barnaby offered uncertainly from the sea of onlookers. A few students nodded and mumbled in agreement, looking between Barnaby and Professor Dordee from confirmation.

“A true statement but the incorrect answer” Professor Dordee said. Barnaby offered no rebuttal, his face twisted in confusion at his teacher’s words.

“You’re the stronger dueler?” A younger Gryffindor suggested hopefully.

“Mr. Caplan is an extremely capable dueler, and with the proper insight he would be an very powerful adversary. This has nothing to do with who is the better dueler of the two.” Professor Dordee said dismissively, now walking around Diego like a vulture circling its dying prey, his eyes darting around the room looking for more answers. Diego stood still with his eyes fixed on his teacher, eager for the objectively correct answer as to why he lost.

“You were unpredictable” Ophelia said in a voice barely louder than her usual speaking voice. It rang out clearly across the silence of the room. All eyes once again volleyed between herself and the professor, who turned slowly to look down at her from his position on the platform.

“Correct, Miss Fawley.” Professor Dordee said, his diction slower than anyone had ever heard it before. The ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth before he spun around again and continued circling Diego, switching between addressing Diego and the students at large as he spoke.

“Mr. Caplan treats his fights as a dance, with timing, choreography, patterns, and flair. It looks very good, and he especially makes it look very good – until he is knocked down to the floor. I’m sorry to say, Mr. Caplan, that treating the dueling ring like a dancefloor will be your downfall here and in the outside world. Being a powerful spellcaster may work against training dummies, but it means nothing if you are not prepared to work dynamically against a sentient target. Mr. Caplan was obviously too focused on what he wanted to do ahead of time, with a set list of spells he wanted to cast as soon as he got the chance. By being unpredictable, spontaneous, and vigilant, I did not give him a chance to throw all the spells he wanted at me, which in turn forced him to improvise, thus the flash-bang charm he used to throw me off. It worked… for a minute. You were learning. Do not focus on yourself and what you are going to do; instead, focus on your opponent and what they are doing. With practice, you will learn to perceive what they are going to do and be able to strike accordingly and successfully.” Professor Dordee stopped circling Diego and looked around at the room, whose entire attention was fixated on him. “Yes, Miss Khanna?” he said suddenly, not even turning around to look at Rowan, who had her hand raised as if this were a classroom lesson.

“Isn’t spontaneity just another style of dueling? If we have a style of dueling that works for us and is effective against opponents, who cares if it’s a little bit flashy? It gets the job done.” Rowan asked in a clear voice. Around her, Barnaby and Merula nodded in agreement. Next to Ophelia and on the platform, Andre and Diego straightened their postures attentively, looking to Professor Dordee for a refutation.

“Spontaneity and improvisation are not just dueling techniques, Miss Khanna. As I have gone over countlessly in defense against the dark arts classes at every level, they are tools to protect and aid you in real life situations. In the real world, your enemies will not take turns and let you go first. An attacker will not give you a heads up that they are about to attack. Your goal in any dispute, physical, magical, or otherwise, should be to end it as quickly as possible and escape with your life. Flair and style has its purposes elsewhere in life, but in dueling they will ultimately only slow you down and take you out.” Professor Dordee raised his wrist to look at his watch and tutted.

“The meeting is over, you’ll all need to leave now in order to make it back to your dormitories before curfew. I know there are prefects here from every house, and they will be tasked with walking all of you back to your houses for the night. Under Headmaster Dumbledore’s instructions, no students are permitted to stray between here and their dorms.” Ophelia could have sworn he looked directly at her and made the most fleeting of eye contact, but his gaze was always moving around so fast it could have been a trick of the flickering lights. “I will see you all in class and at our next gathering, the Wednesday night after next, goodnight.” With a note of abrupt finality, he hopped off the platform and headed towards the door. Several students trailed after him for follow-up questions, but he quickly refuted them, insisting all further questions be asked during office hours. The rest of the students began to gravitate towards their prefects, waiting until the room was completely segregated before heading out towards the dorms. Once every student was accounted for, the prefects began to file out, followed by their respective students.

“Diego, what the hell?” Ophelia whispered to Diego as he made his way to her side. Andre and another Hufflepuff prefect had taken the lead of their respective crowds, walking side-by-side, leaving Ophelia and Diego to bring up the rear and maintain crowd control. “Ravenclaw coach? I showed up tonight practically on a whim, who says I’m a coach now?”

“You said to me that you were the best dueler at Hogwarts, and I’ve seen you in action several times. It would be doing your house a disservice to not offer your tutelage, so I volunteered your leadership. The overseeing professors had no complaints or refusal, so it would seem we were all in agreement that you should be a coach for the dueling club,” Diego replied smoothly. “And I knew you would accept my invitation to come tonight, I’m just that irresistible,” he added, smoothing his luscious hair back and adding a little flick of his head. Ophelia rolled her eyes and shoved him gently. She had grown accustomed to his confidence, charm, and charisma by now, and they seemed to have a mutual understanding that it had no real effect on her. That wasn’t to say he had stopped flirting openly with her public, making futile pleas for her nonexistent affections. He laughed as he bounced back from her shove, and Ophelia couldn’t help but smile.

“Alas, my lady, this is where I leave you,” Diego said as they approached a fork in the corridor. Going further down the hall would take them towards the Hufflepuff dorms in the basement, whereas turning up the stairs would lead to the entrance hall and up to the towers. “I bid you a good night and look forward to our next meeting.” He took her hand and patted the top of it lightly with his other hand before peeling off to follow behind the rest of his house. Ophelia took the turn and headed up the steps a few feet behind the straggling Ravenclaws.

“You seem pretty friendly with Caplan,” a voice at Ophelia’s side said, and Ophelia found that she had been joined by Charlie in Diego’s absence. Behind him, the crowd of Gryffindors tailed in a tight-knit group, ending in the watchful eye of the prefect Miss Myers.

“In my defense, Caplan is friendly with everyone,” Ophelia rebutted, laughing despite herself. “He’ll flirt with anything that moves, and chase after anything that talks back,” she added, falling into step with Charlie as they made their way into the entrance hall.

“So, how about that meeting?” Charlie asked, shoving his hands deep in pockets, as he was prone to do when he was eager to change the subject. “Are you a more of a dancer or a wildcard?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I think I may have been riding on the coattails of being a dancer…” Ophelia mused. “I’ve just been hitting people with flippendo and depulso until the duel is over, so I guess I could argue that I’m all for finishing the duel as quickly as possible, but I’m definitely not unpredictable. What about you?”

“I’ve never been much of a dueler, but I tend to go on the defensive more often than not,” Charlie responded thoughtfully. “But I understand what Dordee means when he says to focus on everything around you instead of focusing on yourself. Like, when I play quidditch, I tend to dissociate a little at the top of the pitch until the smallest thing catches my attention. It’s a good way of looking for the snitch without wasting time and energy actively looking around the pitch, and it keeps me vaguely aware of where all the players are at all times.”

“That’s really interesting, Charlie. I’ve never heard you talk tactics before” Ophelia said, captivated by Charlie’s descriptions of how he personally played quidditch like a goddamn pro. “Not that you’ve ever needed an actual tactic when you played me. I’m lucky if I can stay on my broom, let alone actually do anything useful on the pitch. All you have to do is casually fly around me while I hold on for dear life.” She shot him a mischievous grin. “I wonder how prized this knowledge would be among the Ravenclaw quidditch team. Any formation strategies you’d care to share while we’re here?” she added, batting her eyelashes sweetly. Charlie laughed good-naturedly.

“Andre can know my strategies inside and out, but it’s like Professor Dordee said: having a plan means nothing if you can’t improvise around the real thing. Andre is a stickler for style and always focuses on how his team looks more than how they play the game. My team is made of the best fliers and individual players in Gryffindor, and that’s what Andre should be worrying about.”

The two continued to chat idly until they reached the entrance to the Grand Staircase, where Ophelia would have to keep up with the rest of her house across the moving stairs, and Charlie would have to make sure he didn’t leave his house behind. She wished him goodnight before stepping off the landing, following behind the excitable students until they reached the entrance to the common room. Somewhere at the front of the crowd, Andre answered the riddle, and the group all filed in, with Andre taking a headcount as the students passed him. By the time Ophelia reached the door, he seemed satisfied with the final tally and turned to her.

“Any chance you managed to get Charlie to divulge his closely-guarded quidditch strategy secrets?” Andre asked, only half-joking. Ophelia shook her head.

“Nah, you know Charlie. Nothing but lovely chats about Hebridean Blacks all the way up to the staircases.” Ophelia said, shooting Andre a sneaky wink as she walked past him and up the stairs to her dorm. Andre rolled his eyes and closed the common room door behind him.

*

Ophelia was early to her first legilimancy lesson. Snape had sent her a message through a very confused Barnaby, who was happy to help his friend, but didn’t understand what merited the meeting in the first place.

“Is it detention?” he had asked in a low voice as Ophelia read the slip of paper he had delivered stating the date and time of their first scheduled lesson. “Because I heard a bunch of 2nd years had detention with him last night and were forced to clean every single cauldron in the storeroom.” Ophelia had chuckled slightly at Barnaby’s concern, but in all honesty she couldn’t see how these lessons wouldn’t be any less unpleasant than actual detention. She had already served several lessons with Snape last year, and she figured she’d rather clean 100 cauldrons than let Snape pick through her brain.

Nevertheless, here she stood outside his door on what was allegedly a beautiful Sunday afternoon. She couldn’t confirm this personally, as daylight barely got past the first few steps into the dungeons before grim darkness and flickering torchlight took over. Figuring she had stalled long enough, she made a fist and rapped on the classroom door. Barely a beat had passed before Snape’s unpleasant drawl answered from within, admitting her access. Ophelia entered the classroom, trying to put on a brave face for the unpleasantries she was bound to undergo for the rest of the afternoon. It felt weird to be in the classroom without her school bag and her uniform on. She wondered if Snape could deduct house points for wearing jeans on a Sunday. Snape was standing at his desk at the front of the classroom, and watched her approach with narrowed eyes.

“As you are now a N.E.W.T.-level student, you will be expected to proceed with our lessons nonverbally… not that I would even remotely expect success if I let you shout the incantation as loud as you could. You are welcome to throw up any defenses you wish, but if they are not nonverbal then I will consider it a failure on your part. If you are by some miracle able to achieve nonverbal legilimancy, we will move on to wandless. Skilled legilimens are able to read minds and plant thoughts so discreetly that there is no way to trace it back to the perpetrator. People’s thoughts are as accessible and clearly heard as if they were being spoken out loud.” Snape said without further preamble, assuming his position in one corner of the classroom. Ophelia countered him, making her way towards the opposite corner with her wand clutched tightly in her fist.

“That sounds invasive, to just read people’s minds with no warning or consent. Especially if the person doesn’t even know their mind is being read at all,” Ophelia said, her brow furrowed.

“This sort of thinking will hold you back and obstruct your development of your very rare natural gift. In any duel, you’ll want that upper hand in knowing what your opponents are thinking. I can assure you that this cabal that seeks to kill you and your friends will have no moral quandaries about entering your mind. The only morals at play are kill or be killed. As such, we will be starting defensively with Occlumency before moving onto the offense, as the headmaster considers the security of your thoughts more important than apprehending theirs.” Snape snapped back at her, his patience already growing thin only moments after the lesson’s start. He raised his wand, and Ophelia mirrored his actions, unsure of how hard Snape was going to attack her after knowing how terribly out of practice she was.

The effect was instantaneous. Thought after thought rose rapidly to the forefront of Ophelia’s mind like a stack of paper being thrown up into the wind. Ophelia recalled memories and thoughts and dreams so random and often obscure that it was unclear whether Snape was looking for something in particular or was just trying to make as much mess as possible. She tried desperately to clear her mind, but more seemed to fill the void, as if she were trying to empty a running bathtub with cup. Desperate for the flow to cease, she switched from trying to focus on void to focusing on fill. She tried to fill her mind up with a tangible blank white expanse, pushing all of her thoughts down and out of the way. She could tell it was working, as she could feel the resistance against Snape trying to push his way through. Maybe she wasn’t as rusty as she had thought. However, she allowed herself to get distracted by the small victory, and Snape pushed through again, harder than before. Memories flashed before her eyes like a movie played on fast forward, blinding her to her real-life surroundings.

Her mother greeting her at King’s Cross unexpectedly, holding her tightly as Ophelia desperately tries to escape. Her’s mother’s smile is warm, but behind her teasing she is definitely hurt by her daughter’s attempts to abscond. 

Talking to Bill outside the Burrow before he leaves for Egypt, and watching as several redheaded children run over the nearby hill to find her. Laughter and joyful yells fill her ears as her heart painfully sinks in silence.

Opening the door to Jacob’s bedroom after hours of silence and finding it empty, the breeze coming in through the open window rustling a short letter in his handwriting left on his bed. A terrified scream mixed with an anguished sob builds up at the back of her throat as she takes in the last words she gets from him before he disappears from her life.

The Ice Knight sweeping his sword towards her, slicing deeply into her arm. Despite the warm blood flowing from the cut, the wound burns ice cold, already frosted over at the incision. Ophelia cries out in pain, throwing the few offensive spells a 12-year-old could know.

Ophelia hadn’t realized she had cast incendio until Snape’s angry shouts broke her form her stream of remembrance. The memories stopped flowing as Snape directed all of his attention to extinguishing his robes. Once his clothing had stopped smoldering, he turned to Ophelia, his eyes dark with fury.

“Your nonverbal defense is better than I gave you credit for, but do not mistake any commendation I grant you for clemency for trying to set the dungeons on fire,” He snarled.

Ophelia took several deep breaths, trying very hard to get a grip on reality as the memories faded back into vague obscurity. She felt a shoot of coldness through the scar on her arm, as though the memory had physically reopened the cut. “What were you even looking for? Those were some of my worst memories!” she said indignantly, not even a little bit sorry for accidentally setting her professor on fire.

“That is what the enemy will do to you. They won’t need to torture you with curses, they can make you relive the pain you already have inside you. If you give them access to that, they will be able to build upon it, exploit it, extrapolate it. They won’t need to fire a single spell in a duel if they can get you take yourself down with your own psyche.” Snape responded coldly. “You did show some promise in mental resistance, however, before you decided to commit arson in my classroom. By our next lesson, I will be expecting for you to have developed that to the extent of your abilities. Anything less is a waste of both my time and yours.”

“Are all of our lessons just going to be you forcing me to relive my nightmares in real time?” Ophelia spat. Snape threw her a disdainful look.

“These lessons will proceed however you see fit. If you continue to mentally lie down complacently while I riffle through your thoughts at my leisure, then I’m afraid that is at your discretion. Your abilities will only improve if you put in effort outside of these lessons. Until our next meeting, your assignment will be to practice clearing your mind while nonverbally probing into the minds of others. You are dismissed.” He said, turning around as abruptly as he had when he had first held her back after class. Ophelia was heading out the door before Snape had even made it to his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like... i dont want professor dordee to come off as moody/crouch from hp4, but im worried it does anyways. the difference is that moody is CONSTANT VIGILANCE, whereas Dordee is that PLUS has a strong emphasis on spontaneity. I promise this is relevant later.


	7. Little Moth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's not your room, it's mine  
>  and you can't be here to find out anything about me  
> you cannot know my family cause' they're not yours.  
> _

October had mercifully maintained the dry weather that September had granted the students of Hogwarts, but the temperature had also dropped considerably, reminding the students that it was only going to get worse. The enduring overcast clouds that always threatened rain kept the castle bathed in a dreary, muted light. Between the sunless skies, the freezing corridors, and the constant threat of cursed confinement, nerves were tight, and moods were generally at an all-time low. Desperate to escape the castle for a few hours, everyone Ophelia knew signed up for the first Hogsmeade trip, including herself.

The group of nine hiked down the well-beaten path towards Hogsmeade that the carriages had taken then up a little over a month ago. They were all wrapped in thick cloaks, heavy sweaters, and warm pants, but the harsh wind whipped mercilessly at their exposed faces. At the front of the group were Tulip and Tonks, eager to get to Zonko’s to restock for the year, followed by Barnaby, Rowan, Charlie, and Ben eager for the warmth of The Three Broomsticks, with Andre and Ophelia bringing up the rear. Andre was talking about his career advice session that he had only recently had with Flitwick while Ophelia remained silent. She was listening, but her mind kept wandering to the sweet butterbeer and roaring fireplace that would greet her at the end of the road.

“-Of course, I always want to keep myself open to fashionable opportunities, but I’m really hedging all my bets on being a professional quidditch player,” Andre was saying. “Ideally with Pride of Portree, obviously, but I guess I’d be willing to settle for playing for England,” he chuckled to himself. Ophelia hummed noncommittally, trying her best to look invested even though her mind was clearly elsewhere. Andre paused, offering her an opportunity to actively engage in the conversation, which caught Ophelia off guard, and she stumbled a little as she worked to gather a coherent contribution to the discussion.

“Oh, erm, that sounds really promising, Andre. Portree would be lucky to have you,” she said encouragingly. To be fair, she could have said that in the middle of any conversation with Andre about anything else and it would have satisfied him. Andre raised an eyebrow, and Ophelia offered him an apologetic look. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in her friends’ futures, but there was a lot happening in her life right now, and all she cared about at this moment was to get out of the cold with a tasty drink in her hand. Andre seemed to understand the nuance of her expression, or at least was willing to forgive that she had tuned out the majority of what he had been saying. He waved a hand carelessly as if batting away that conversation like a pesky moth, moving on to change the subject.

“So, Ophelia” Andre said slowly, pacing his steps so that the two were now several feet behind the rest of the group and free of potential eavesdroppers. “When can I set you up on a date? Do you have any idea how many eligible bachelors have asked me about you? The answer is all of them.” He nudged her playfully, and Ophelia looked thoughtfully at the village that was just starting to come into sight. It had been nearly 3 years since Andre had first offered to set her up on a date, and he brought it up periodically from time to time to remind her that the offer still stood. He’d played matchmaker for plenty of people Ophelia knew, but not necessarily successfully. It was usually a matter of throwing together someone who was interested in dating with someone who was tolerant of being set up. He seldom stuck around to see the end results.

“I’m not… really interested in anyone right now,” Ophelia said lightly, trying to hide the overwhelming stress of the rest of her life behind a small laugh. It was an honest answer. She'd had a brief flirtatious rapport with a muggle boy in her apartment building, and had even fostered a few crushes on miscellaneous classmates over the past few years, but had never bothered to explore her romantic feelings beyond that. At this time in her life, dating was the last thing on her mind. Andre continued to look at her for a follow-up, and she continued. “Besides, even if I was, my life is a little too precarious to introduce a relationship. I wouldn’t want to risk a friendship just because I don’t know how to be romantic.” Andre smiled but pressed on, his tone a little bit more pushy.

“I said nothing about dating a friend. There are boys, and a fair few girls, in every house who have asked me about you. Plenty of people you’re not friends with at all. Some aren't even classmates in our year.” Andre said, chuckling to himself as he recalled the sheer volume of people who had come to him in an attempt to court Ophelia. Ophelia shot him an inquisitive look. She couldn’t deny she was curious about which of her schoolmates were harboring crushes for her, but she also knew that romantic entanglements were the absolute last thing she needed to be focusing on right now. She turned away from him to look back at the nearing village.

“Nah.” She finally said with a shrug. Andre nodded, accepting defeat for the time being. She had offered this answer several times before, and it usually wasn’t too long before he would ask her again.

The Three Broomsticks was far more crowded than the group had anticipated, but they were fortunately able to snag the large round table in the far corner that they had always preferred for group hangouts. Madam Rosmerta approached them as they took their seats, flipping out a notepad to take the orders.

“Took you long enough, I’ve been trying to shoo people away from this table for the better part of an hour,” she said with a wink once she had finished taking orders around the table. “It’s been a while since you’ve all been here together, but Rowan here sent an owl ahead insisting you lot needed the largest table on one of my busiest weekends.”

“We’re celebrating Ophelia’s birthday!” Barnaby said enthusiastically. Madam Rosmerta turned to Ophelia with a confused expression. Years of close friendship with Jacob followed by years of Ophelia’s patronage was enough to tip her off to the fact that her birthday was not in October.

“My birthday was in August,” Ophelia corrected quickly, “But we haven’t had a chance to celebrate properly.” Madam Rosmerta nodded at the clarification.

“Well then, I guess your drink is on the house. But if I see even one engorgement charm, I’m cutting you off for the rest of the year,” she said brightly, although no one doubted she would hold them to her threat if they tested her. She left to attend to other customers, and Barnaby looked to Ophelia a little forlornly.

“Aw, I was going to pay for your drink as my birthday present, now I can’t” he sulked, but Ophelia laughed.

“Don’t worry about it, Barnaby” Ophelia said, patting him on the back.

“I’ll buy your second round!” he offered hopefully, perking up slightly. Ophelia suddenly looked very apologetic as she shook her head.

“Sorry, but I’m actually meeting someone back at the castle, so I can’t stay too long…” Ophelia said. Everyone around the table shot her an curious look, and Ophelia shifted a little uncomfortably. All of her best friends were here, so no one could imagine who she needed to see without them. “It’s, erm, prefect duties. I need to see Professor Flitwick.” She said, albeit rather unconvincingly. Andre looked towards her with a furrowed brow, but gratefully did not question any further and risk blowing her cover.

“You prefects work too hard,” Tonks said, apparently oblivious to Ophelia’s lie. “When you’re not walking all around the castle, you’re dealing with Filch and the teachers directly. You don’t even get weekends off, by the sounds of it.” She stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“The rules don’t go away on the weekend, Tonks” Charlie said, his brow starting to furrow like Andre’s. “Part of being a prefect means you’re always on duty.”

“Sounds like willful punishment, if you ask me” Tonks said, making another face in revulsion. She was cut off from her further opinions on prefects by the return of Madam Rosmerta and their drinks.

“I hear that Rakepick woman is finally gone” Rosmerta said casually as she distributed the drinks around the table, but her expression was definitely smug. It was well known that she and Madam Rakepick had never been on amicable terms, and one more than one occasion Rosmerta had had to shoo her from her establishment for little more than petty disagreements.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out if that’s for the better” Ophelia sighed, reaching out to take her butterbeer from the center of the table. Rosmerta raised an eyebrow. She certainly had an opinion on whether they were better off without Rakepick. “She didn’t really help that much, but just let all of us run in circles while she handled her own personal agenda. We’re barely any closer to freeing Jacob than we were before she was even brought in as an consultant 2 years ago,” Ophelia continued. Madam Rosmerta pursed her lips, looking grave. She had always cared for Jacob in a way that most other adults had neglected to, and she was just as invested in his safe return as anyone else.

“Well you have my full support and best wishes. I never doubted that Rakepick was anything more than a fraud who thought she was above getting her hands dirty.” Rosmerta sniffed, pulling up to her full height. “When you find Jacob, send him down to the pub, I’d love to see him again,” she said. Ophelia nodded, and Rosmerta’s demeanor shifted back to happy-go-lucky bartender. She threw a wave at the table before turning to disappear into the crowd. Ophelia watched her go while the conversation around her picked up again. Assuming everything went well later today, she would be able to uphold her promise. She turned her attention back to her friends, who all raised their glasses in a resounding cheer dedicated to her. She smiled along with them, grateful that she would be able to enjoy the better part of her afternoon. She was sure it would inevitably go sour when she returned to the castle.

*

As they had agreed upon earlier, Merula was waiting for Ophelia outside the door to Jacob’s room, her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently. Ophelia disregarded her behavior as she reached down the neck of her sweater. She pulled out a long chain necklace that bore the keys required to unlock the dual padlock that guarded the room. Merula huffed as she watched Ophelia make quick work of the padlock before leading them inside. The room was darker than she remembered, but gratefully was no longer harboring any stray boggarts. A thick layer of dust had gathered on almost every surface after over 5 months of vacancy. She illuminated the tip of her wand and held it high over her head, shedding light on the piles of papers and notes authored by both Jacob and herself, which she and her friends had meticulously organized over the years.

“You know, if you had just given me the keys before, I could have started doing some actual work while you were off in Hogsmeade doing something entirely unimportant” Merula said, immediately moving to the table at the center of the room to begin shuffling through the papers that had been left there. Although Ophelia had barred Merula entry to the room for the last 2 years, Merula still navigated the room with confidence. Ophelia rolled her eyes and stuffed the keys back down her sweater. “Or at least give me one key, so I know that you trust me as an equal in this whole curse-breaking business,” Merula offered, not even turning from the papers to look at Ophelia.

“Yeah, that’s the thing, Merula, I don’t trust you.” Ophelia said, moving past her to examine the corkboard in the corner that was pinned with news clippings, key notes, and red thread. “This whole partnership is based on the fact that the curse is still active and Rakepick also chose you as an apprentice curse-breaker. The Rakepick thing is just a formality though, since I don’t trust her either.” Merula growled a little as Ophelia took the light with her, lowering it so she could reread the contents of the corkboard. She had probably read every single scrap of paper in this room at least a dozen times over, but these were the workings of a boy who had never been straightforward about anything, including his own thought processes.

“So cruel, Fawley. What makes you think you still can’t trust me?” Merula asked, summoning a new light source from her wand when it was clear that Ophelia wasn’t going to share anymore.

“I know you don’t give a shit about my brother, which means you have ulterior motives to find the vaults. I don’t care what those motives are so long as it gets my brother out.” Ophelia said. She was trying to keep her tone conversational, friendly almost, but she also didn’t want Merula to get the wrong idea about how gullible she was about Merula’s cooperation. Merula was well known to sneak, steal, lie, and stab people in the back to get ahead in any way, and despite this she’d still managed to do absolutely nothing to help open the previous vaults. Ophelia was almost certain that Merula would ultimately betray her at the last minute to seize the victory of breaking the portrait curse for herself, but she would cross that bridge when she got there. She wasn’t looking for victory, she was looking for Jacob.

"So why not ask your little friends to help you? I'm sure Haywood is desperate for answers and results, Khanna would jump off a bridge if you asked her to, and Karasu will do anything to get attention," Merula jeered. Ophelia didn't respond immediately. She knew her friends were loyal to a fault, and would stand with her through anything. The choice to exclude them at this point had been tough for Ophelia, but they had done so much already. Ophelia sincerely wanted this to be her last cursed Hogwarts vault, but all signs pointed towards this also being the most dangerous one by a mile. Her friends didn't deserve that.

"I wanted to give you a shot at the vault, since you claim to be such a master curse-breaker. If I want to get this done quickly and discreetly, you're my best option." Ophelia was lying through her teeth, but Merula's face lit up at the false praise.

“Maybe you should just admit that you’re useless on your own. You always need someone to hold your hand as you go into a cursed vault. You wouldn’t have asked me if you thought you could do this alone.” Merula jeered from the table. She was sort of right; Ophelia had no doubt that whatever was standing between her and her brother would be immensely dangerous, but she had already faced her fair share of hazardous adversaries. What she really needed Merula for was a trained eye and a second head to bounce ideas off of.

Ophelia turned to join Merula at the table, where she had fanned out some of the more important notes they had at their disposal. Jacob have obviously never intended to share these notes, and as such the handwriting was barely legible across most of the page. Ophelia had tried her best to annotate it where she could decipher it, but there were still words that looked entirely alien to her.

“What do we know?” Merula asked, moving from the center table to another surface. Ophelia couldn’t complain that Merula wanted to physically stay away from her, as the feeling was certainly mutual, but Merula being evasive while still nagging her for information wasn’t a great start to their ‘partnership’. Ophelia took a deep breath.

“I think the vault is going to be guarded by a dragon” Ophelia said bluntly. It was something she had been dwelling on for over a year, but saying it out loud made it feel like a foreign thought to her. She felt as though she hadn’t really comprehended exactly what she had been thinking until she said it. There was a beat where Merula stopped moving, then she slowly turned to look at Ophelia incredulously. The light from her wand threw half of her face in shadow, blurring the line between skepticism and fear.

“Where do you get that idea from, Fawley?” she queried. “If there was a dragon somewhere in the castle then I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be a huge secret.”

“It’s based on a few facts but it’s really just a hunch,” Ophelia said, holding out her fingers to count off her reasoning. “Jacob’s notes clearly and repeatedly theorize that there’s a dragon somewhere in the castle, but there’s not a lot of reasoning behind that. I’m really just willing to take his word for it. Sir Cadogan said that when Beatrice was trapped in the portrait there was the sound of flapping wings as she entered the painting. That portrait I found in the forest vault depicts a pretty angry looking Hungarian Horntail.” Ophelia pulled down a finger as she listed her points, growing more confident in her theory as she went on but also much more apprehensive.

“Wait, what portrait? Is it the vault portrait Rakepick wanted us to find last year?” Merula asked quickly, thrown off by her apparent lack of essential knowledge. Ophelia groaned and turned to dig through a locked box in the corner of the room. From its depths she pulled the portrait in question and placed it on the table for Merula to observe. It did indeed depict a dragon that even an amateur could identify as a Horntail, but unlike most of the portraits they had been dealing with recently, this one was completely static. In the slight pulse of the wand light, the spread wings of the dragon seemed to flap just a little, but it was definitely just a trick of the light. The small painting sat between them, as frustratingly useless as it had been the day Ophelia had retrieved it from the forest.

“… Didn’t you get a portrait off of Peeves last year for pulling a bunch of stupid pranks?” Merula said suddenly, tracing a finger along the frame of the painting. Ophelia let out a short bark of laughter.

“That was arguably one of the stupidest things Rakepick had us do, trying to get that portrait. This dragon painting is probably the vault portrait she was thinking of, and I can assure that it does absolutely nothing.” Ophelia turned again to pull the painting she had eventually acquired from Peeves out of a much less secretive hiding spot and placed it next to the dragon painting. Just looking at it again filled Ophelia with pangs of irritation. In exchange for weeks of pulling horrible pranks on her friends and schoolmates, Peeves had given her this self-portrait that looked like it had been done by a toddler hit with the confundus charm. The paint went well off the canvas and over the frame, and whatever paint Peeves had used was cheap and disgusting. It shed dusty blue flakes almost every time it was handled and gave off an unpleasant musty smell. It wasn’t just that it was completely useless and not at all what she thought she was bartering for, but it was just really poorly done. Merula bent over to scrutinize the horrid portrait, her nose almost touching the canvas. She reached out a finger and scratched at the frame, taking some of the paint off under her fingernail.

“It’s been painted over,” she said quietly, still observing the painting closely.

“Yeah, all over the frame. I nearly got expelled for what I did to get this garbage,” Ophelia said, laughing a little despite her frustration.

“No… it’s painted over something else…” Merula said, scratching the painting again, this time on the canvas. More of the electric blue paint came off at her touch, but the canvas underneath was dark. Ophelia’s eyes widened at the revelation, and Merula lowered her wand to the painting’s surface. “Scourgify,” she muttered. The two watched as the paint started to peel back, curling like wallpaper in heat, stripping down to the edges of the canvas and falling off at the frame. After several seconds of watching the painting shed Peeve’s hideous self-portrait, they found themselves looking at an entirely different painting altogether. Like the portrait Ophelia had taken from the previous vault, this one featured a completely stationary Hungarian Horntail. However, this one was sound asleep, its body settled in a reposing position with head tucked under a wing. Ophelia let out a deep breath, ogling the newly exposed painting before them. There was a moment of silence as the two regarded the first new piece of physical evidence either of them had come across in months.

“Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus” Merula said softly with a small laugh. She looked up at Ophelia, a giddy grin plastered on her face, her eyes glinting. “The school motto. Never tickle a sleeping dragon.” She breathed. Ophelia was still staring, her eyes darting between Merula and the painting. Of course, Peeves had painted over the vault portrait like the nuisance he was, but he had ultimately delivered as promised. She beamed at Merula, truly grateful for her help for possibly the first time ever.

“There’s a dragon in the castle!” Ophelia cried triumphantly, punching the air. She paused, smiling brightly at Merula, who beamed back with matching excitement. Then Ophelia's smile began to falter. “There’s… a dragon… in the castle…” she repeated slowly, letting the weight of the words sink in. Knowing there was a dragon was one thing, but preparing to face one was a horse of a completely different color. “Oh Merlin, Merula, there’s a dragon in the castle” she repeated for the third time, her glee now replaced by growing terror. Merula’s face was also wiped of her smile as she came to understand exactly what they were about to be faced with. She turned back to the paintings, continuing to stroke a finger along the matching frames as she scrutinized them again.

“Rakepick said it would be a portkey. Maybe it’s been deactivated or something… ” Merula said. Ophelia shook her head in agreement and indicated towards several notes pinned to a supporting post in the middle of the room. A poorly drawn map in Jacob’s hand was displayed at the forefront. It depicted what could only be an incredibly minimalistic Hogwarts castle, a series of crossing footpaths, and a vague beastly creature in the corner which was now obviously the dragon they were fated to encounter. There wasn’t much helpful straightforward information, but perhaps there was a subtle clue.

“There’s gotta be some entrance somewhere on the castle or the grounds where we can activate it,” Ophelia said, tracing her finger along the footpaths illustrated on the map. Not that they were any help, as there really was no rhyme or reason to their direction, but this conclusion seemed to make the most sense. Merula massaged her eye sockets, her brow furrowed in thought.

“What else was in the vault? There’s usually two things, like a key to the vault and clue to its location. We have the key, now we need the clue. What was there besides the painting?” Merula asked, raising her head and looking around the room for clues she might have missed since she was last there. Ophelia frowned. No one could say Merula wasn’t observant, but as Merula had never directly joined Ophelia when opening a vault, Ophelia was a little thrown by her knowledge of the contents of the past vaults and her deductions of their purpose. Ophelia turned to a separate corner of the room and withdrew the tiny sweater from where it had been wrapped up in paper and stowed several boxes deep. She flourished it anticlimactically on their working surface, and Merula peered at it with the same intensity as she had with the dragon painting. The sweater could probably fit a toddler at best and was almost certainly hand-made. Several of the stiches were uneven and knobbly, as if the knitter had been rushed to get the garment off the needles.

“Is this a clue about your childhood? Did you wear this shitty sweater when you were young? Your fashion sense hasn’t improved much.” Merula said, looking up at Ophelia. Ophelia huffed, her patience with Merula now growing thin, and took the sweater off the table. She weighed it carefully in her free hand, her illuminated wand held close as she took the first proper look at it since she had first found it. Her fingers wove over the stitches of the knitwear, her eyes sweeping the pattern and dimensions. With its long, skinny sleeves and narrow, flat-chested body, it would be ill-fitting even for a small child.

“I… don’t think it’s for a human…” Ophelia said, realization dawning on her own face as she said it. She looked pointedly at Merula until the same comprehension lit up on her face as well. Her eyes went wide and she reached out for the sweater, plucking it from Ophelia’s hands to look at it again.

“Goblins?” Merula asked in a low voice as she regarded the tiny sweater with a newfound interest.

“House-elves,” Ophelia replied in an equally low voice, as if worried that speaking any louder would crack the delicate but promising progress they were making so far. “I’ve been around enough house-elves from my detention last year to figure what proper clothes would fit on them. The entrance must be in the kitchens.” She looked up at Merula, grinning at the second clue they had managed to dig up in under an hour. Merula’s excitement was quickly replaced by her signature smug smirk, her eyes glinting in the dark room. 

“So we’ve got everything we need. We know the location, and we know what we’re facing. Just stick the portraits somewhere in the kitchen, portkey to the vault, break the curse, free the Haywood girl and your crazy brother, and we can be back in class by Monday. How did you even manage to open a vault a year without me? If you’d stayed out of my way, I could have knocked them all out by 2nd year.” Ophelia rolled her eyes yet again, growing weary of Merula’s constant volleying between helpful insight and back-handed snark. Merula was omitting a very important detail that had been floating at the forefront of Ophelia’s mind since it had first been brought up.

“Merula, do you know how to fight a dragon?” Ophelia asked pointedly, nodding towards the dragon portrait on the desk that Merula had seemingly forgotten in their resumed sleuthing. Merula’s smirk was wiped off her face as though she had been slapped, replaced by something that could only be described as apprehensive fear. It was a look Ophelia seldom saw Ben without. Ophelia sighed deeply, knowing that their work was about to be cut out for them. She pulled a stray blank sheet of parchment from the table and a graphite pencil, jotting down a list as she spoke.

“We’re going to need to do a lot of research. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but dragons are stupid difficult to take down even by the best trained professionals. There’s no way we’ll be able to take it out ourselves, so our best bet is to incapacitate it long enough to break the curse. The most we can hope for is that the dragon sleeps when the curse is broken, but worst case scenario we have to be ready to run with Jacob the second the curse is broken.” Ophelia began listing different defensive strategies down the list and several subjects to delve into before they even thought about confronting the beast head on. She was grateful that Charlie had only ever offered books on dragons during their entire friendship, giving the both of them a place to start. Ophelia handed the list to Merula, who took it with her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Ugh, you’re such a Ravenclaw. Researching just to put off facing the inevitable. Even a Hufflepuff wouldn’t stall so much.” Despite saying this, Merula’s expression of anxiety seemed to soften, as though she were perhaps grateful to postpone facing a dragon. “So where do we start? Library?” Merula asked, her sneer losing some of its edge.

“Library will have the most resources in one place, but nearly half of my friends are promising magizoologists. Most of them are in Slytherin, so I wouldn’t neglect them as a resource if I were you.”

“Have you ever talked to Lizard? Merlin, she’s the most boring person in the school. And Lee is lucky if he can hold a conversation about anything without getting distracted by the thought of nifflers 20 seconds in.” Merula grumbled.

“Do you want to talk to Charlie? Or your old prefect Felix?” Ophelia frowned. Ophelia didn’t really care if Merula adamantly wouldn’t talk to their dragon-loving peers, since it wasn’t anything she couldn’t do herself, but if they were going to be partners then Merula had to at least try to pull her weight in research.

“Oh, no, I’ll talk to them, don’t you fret, Fawley.” Merula waved her off, stowing the study list into her pocket. “We’ll meet in the library later this week and see what we’ve gathered from the creature freaks. If you’re late again, I swear I’ll leave, and also jinx you in your sleep,” Merula said. Despite the threat in her words, her tone no longer suggested any real malice. Ophelia nodded and gathered the clues from the last vault, returning them to their more discreet locations across the room. While Ophelia was doing this, Merula extinguished the light from her wand with a flick and made her way back to the door.

“I’ll see you later, Fawley. Try not to get into too much trouble before next weekend,” was the last thing Ophelia heard before the door closed behind Merula, leaving Ophelia alone in the dark with a small, hopeful grin tugging at her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew Jacob's journal (with Ophelia and Penny's annotations in it) a while ago, to give an idea of how bad Jacob's handwriting is


	8. Needing/Getting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So I been sitting around, wasting my time  
>  wondering what you been doing  
> Aw, and it ain't real forgiving, it ain't real forgiving  
> sitting here picturing someone else living  
> _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dear Bill,_

_Hope Egypt is treating you as well as you’d hoped! Rakepick of course had us do our fair share of reading on it, so I can only imagine all the cool stuff you get to deal with every day. Rowan won’t stop asking me questions to send you. She wants to know everything from the architecture and the mythology to the mummies and the magizoology. I’ll save you the barrage of inquiries, though. Consider it an early Christmas present from me._

Ophelia paused, tapping the feathered tip of her quill gently against her chin. She had taken refuge in the quiet Ravenclaw dormitory during her free period before dinner to write to Bill, but now that she was here, she found herself at a complete blank. Only a few sentences in, and everything she wrote seemed so… empty. Her head was spinning with the constant whirlwind of dragon panic, school stress, and the cold loneliness she was feeling in Bill’s absence. She was at least grateful to have a use for Penny’s birthday stationary set. She would have used it to write to her mother, who she knew craved constant updates, but her mother always became agitated and anxious when they received letters at their address, fearful that their home was no longer safe, so Ophelia had refrained from sending her anything. To be fair though, there was very little she felt she could get away with telling her mother.

In contrast, she had so much she wanted to say to Bill, but writing didn’t feel the same as talking to him, and she was finding herself at a loss for words. He had always been so easy to talk to, so why was it so difficult to write it in ink? She hesitated another moment in thought before continuing.

_I think Merula and I have found a lead on the portrait vault, and we’ve been working together fairly well, all things considered. Everyone else is pretty busy with their own stuff, and without you and Rakepick I guess I’m the one making the executive decisions (because if I left that to Merula we would never find my brother, haha)._

_Next on the agenda is a visit to the prefects bathroom to talk to Duncan. I have a few more questions for him about the cursed vaults that I’m hoping he’ll be able to answer, but I’m also not getting my hopes up… you know how Duncan is about me. It’ll be weird going to the prefects bathroom without you and Charlie with me. I’d honestly ask Charlie to come, even just for laughs, but he’s been really busy with quidditch and working towards being head boy. I hate to exclude him, but it might be best for him to sit this one out._

Ophelia hummed as her brow furrowed, her quill paused again while hovering over the parchment. She had specifically blocked out time to go speak to Duncan once she had finished writing this letter, but now she found that she would much rather stall and try to draft the perfect letter to Bill rather than deal with him. He always managed to make her feel guilty for things she had no control over and no means of repairing. Sometimes, she wasn’t even sure if he really truly resented her, or if he just liked watching her squirm. Unfortunately, he was probably her best resource for information about R, and the cabal’s silence this far into the year was much more of a concern than a consolation. With a sigh of frustration, she put the quill to the paper once more.

_But about the lead I mentioned… please don’t tell Rakepick. We don’t know enough yet, and the last thing we need right now is to get derailed by her own agenda. She’s a great cursebreaker, sure, but an even better delegator. No more sidetracking._

_Anyways, I miss you like crazy. It’s weird not having you around to boss me around and keep me in line. Don’t be a stranger, I’ll always be looking forward to a letter from you._

_Take care,_  
_Ophelia_

Ophelia held up the completed letter, already matte from the smudge-proof quick-drying ink. Every time she read it over, it seemed even more hollow and emotionless than before, despite the amount of overthinking she had put into it. It barely captured a fraction of everything she was feeling right now, and even though Bill had assured her that he was only a letter away at any given time, she still felt dismally lonely without him. He was an adult with a career and his own life now, and despite his reassurances, Ophelia felt writing to him too often about her problems would be inconsiderate and inconvenient. Bill had previously pointed her towards Charlie if she ever needed a loyal Weasley at her side, but she had yet to even try to bring Charlie into her curse-breaking business this year. Charlie was great for company, but it wasn’t the same.

Feeling resigned, she attached the letter to Arke’s outstretched leg. He hooted softly before jumping out of the nearby window and flew out towards the setting sun. Ophelia watched him go for a minute before closing the window securely, preventing the October chill from permeating into the dormitory. The room was now empty aside from herself and the small selection of dozing pets around the dormitory. Her friends were likely to start wrapping up their final classes of the day soon and would be heading straight to dinner. She supposed she should get a proper meal herself before the evening’s dueling club, and she was sorely tempted to write off Duncan altogether. However, the prefects bathroom was probably unoccupied of other students right now, and it would be stupid to not at least try to speak with him. With a loud groan, she dragged herself away from the window and down towards the common room to make the trek to the other end of the castle.

The prefects bathroom was indeed empty when she entered, an ironically rare occurrence for such a prestigiously exclusive amenity. More often than not, she had found herself locked out and forced to wait idly for another student to finish their routine inside. The bathroom was so out of the way of the dormitory and so frequently occupied when she bothered to come here that even the promise of soft perfumed bubbles wasn’t enough to sway her from the toilets and showers that all the other girls in Ravenclaw Tower used. Sometimes having to listen to Tulip’s awful singing in the adjacent shower was preferable to waiting around in a corridor for an hour just to take a bath.

However, the emptiness of the bathroom quickly drew Ophelia’s attention to the fact that Duncan wasn’t here either. Ophelia grumbled as she walked around the sinks, looking for the ghostly trickster that so frequently haunted this bathroom. Even calling for him several times yielded no successful results, and she was forced to accept that she had traversed well out of her way to the other end of the castle for no good reason. Her eyes strayed over to the large empty swimming-pool sized tub on the other side of the room. A row of fluffy clean towels were hung on the wall next to it, beckoning her.

Well, she supposed that she might as well make use of the exclusive bathroom during a rare moment of availability. It had been a long while since Ophelia had put time aside for herself outside of her constant studying, prefect duties, and the looming threat of dragonfire awaiting her in the portrait vault. Maybe a hot, scented bath would give her some reprieve of the constant stress she was under. She strode towards the bathtub with a renewed sense of purpose, turning on her preferred selection of taps as she went. Within moments, the room was filled with steam, bubbles, and the unmistakable fragrance of a bath fit for a prefect. She quickly shed her clothes and slid eagerly into the water, disappearing completely under the opaque layer of foam and bubbles.

*

Ophelia shivered as she stepped out of the tub nearly an hour later, the absence of hot, scented bathwater on her skin quickly replaced by the chilled air of the otherwise still empty bathroom. She couldn’t deny she felt much more refreshed than she had earlier, and the hot water and soft foam had done wonders to improve her mood. Her frustration with Duncan was all but forgiven by now.

As the tub drained behind her, the scents of lavender, peach blossoms, and roses lingered in the air and clung to the warm clothes she put on over her freshly washed body. The aromas always reminded her fondly of when she had first experienced the prefects’ bathroom, when she had wasted no time in trying out every single tap that lined the perimeter of the pool-like bath. The resulting cacophony of scents had been a little overwhelming, but not wholly unpleasant. At the time, she had been accompanied by her regular entourage of Charlie and Bill. Now that she thought about it, she could probably count on one hand the number of times she had ever been in the prefects’ bathroom without a Weasley brother. She screwed up her face at the implications; she was of course loathe to the idea of two bathing teenagers coexisting in the same private bathroom, but the sheer number of times she, Charlie, and Bill had opted to meet in the prefects’ bathroom for the sake of privacy had still sparked their fair share of rumors.

“If you’re done, do you think you could leave faster?” an irritable voice said, and Ophelia spun on the spot to see Duncan sitting on top of the sink fixtures, his pale ghostly eyes peering at her. Ophelia’s face reddened.

“Were you watching me take a bath, Duncan?” she sputtered, hugging her used towels against her fully-clothed body. She had been so sure that Duncan had forsaken the bathroom for the evening that she hadn’t even bothered to check for his return.

“I’m not some kind of pervert, you know,” Duncan said with a furrowed brow, his translucent form drifting down to meet her at eye level. “Unlike Myrtle, who definitely is. She usually haunts the out-of-service restroom on the second floor, but she’s been known to encroach on my territory just to watch the prefects bathe. She’s especially fond of watching your ginger friend.” Duncan turned from her and began to drift slowly back upwards, floating in a lazy halo-like loop over the sinks. He seemed to be immediately lost in his own thoughts, as though he had already forgotten that Ophelia was there. Ophelia’s face flushed even more, ultimately choosing not to ask Duncan which Weasley he was referring to. She straightened up and made towards the door, the used towel still clutched to her body. She was so eager to leave him to his weird bathroom antics that she nearly forgot why she had come all this way in the first place. She turned quickly towards Duncan, who was still making an obvious effort to ignore her.

“Can ghosts go anywhere in the castle?” She asked, causing Duncan to turn back towards her with an irritable expression. “Since you can go through walls, and all. Is anywhere in the castle fair game?” Ophelia pressed.

“More or less, I suppose, but ghosts also respect established territories. Suppose if you’re dead forever it’s only fair that you get to stake out a little area for yourself,” Duncan said with a half shrug, continuing to circle slowly near the ceiling like a translucent bird of prey in slow motion.

“And you chose a bathroom?” Ophelia asked, an eyebrow arched.

“I died here, dipshit” Duncan deadpanned, not even looking towards her this time. “Besides, newer ghosts usually get the barrel scrapings when it comes to haunting locations, all the cool ones are long gone.” Ophelia found herself at a loss for words and averted her gaze. “Did you have a point, Fawley? Or do you just like making fun of dead kids, because I can assure you Myrtle could always use some company.” Duncan began to slowly drift even further up towards the ceiling, physically detaching himself even further from the conversation.

“Can ghosts access cursed vaults?” Ophelia called quickly before Duncan could float away completely, and he paused from his circling in midair, regarding her question thoughtfully.

“I suppose if I knew where they were, I could, but ghosts don’t trigger the vaults like a human presence does, so even if I strayed into one it would probably be unlit and impossible to tell. I know where the ice vault and the library vault are, but I’ve never been bothered to venture there since I died. There’s not really anything for me there.” His pensive expression started to look a little forlorn, and Ophelia was painfully reminded that Duncan had always harbored a dream of becoming a curse-breaker before he had died.

“I’ll be going to the portrait vault soon, if you want to come?” Ophelia offered kindly, but Duncan glared at her again, his expression back to hardened annoyance.

“I’m dead, Fawley, there’s absolutely no reason for me to go with you. Unless you just wanted to rub it in that I died before I could get some proper curse-breaking done.” Duncan spat.

“I-I’m sorry” Ophelia stammered, taking a step back towards the door. “I just thought-”

“We’re not friends, Fawley. I don’t want to be your friend.” He sneered, before drifting backwards into ceiling and disappearing from view. Ophelia froze, ashamed as always for unintentionally hurting Duncan’s volatile feelings. She had managed to establish a snarky repertoire with him over the last year of her visitations, giving her some insight into the nature of his otherwise fairly mysterious relationship with her brother. However, her desire to be cooperative and make friends with him clashed very directly with his hatred for Jacob, which extended to her in his absence. She waited a few more seconds to see if he would come back and give her a chance to apologize, but when he failed to return, she left the bathroom quietly.

The walk to the Great Hall was gratefully peaceful. She encountered few passersby and was left to wallow in her thoughts the entire way down. She paused at Beatrice’s portrait just before the ingress to the Entrance Hall and looked up. Beatrice had long since become unresponsive to people beyond the confines of her painted prison. She was on the ground, resting on her legs, her head propped against the invisible barrier between their worlds. From far away she looked as though she may be sleeping, slumped in exhaustion, but up-close Ophelia could see her eyes were open, gazing unseeingly beyond the painting. She took no notice of Ophelia as she walked past, unable to see or hear her. Her blue eyes were fixed out in the distance and devoid of the brightness they had possessed when Ophelia had first met her so shortly before her imprisonment. Ophelia felt overwhelmed with sadness all over again and reached up to gently brush Beatrice’s hair, her fingers touching nothing but canvas. Time was of the essence to break the curse. She didn’t want to even think about what would happen to Beatrice and the other students if she neglected it vfor much longer.

*

“Charlie, hey, Charlie!” Ophelia tore across the entrance hall, leaving Rowan in charge of the gaggle of Ravenclaws headed down towards the dungeons for dueling club. Charlie turned curiously from the rear of the crowd of Gryffindors heading in the same direction several yards ahead.

“What’s up?” Charlie asked, adjusting his stride to match Ophelia’s as she paced herself alongside him. “You smell nice,” he added with a knowing grin.

“Talk to me about dragons.” Ophelia said quickly. Charlie’s eyebrows shot into his hair.

“Are you serious? I don’t think anyone has ever genuinely said that to me before,” Charlie laughed. Ophelia nodded her head, her expression entirely serious.

“You know more than anyone about dragons, and I need to know what their weaknesses are” Ophelia said earnestly. Charlie’s eyebrows remained raised, but more in suspicion than surprise.

“Whatd’ya need to know that kind of stuff for?” he asked, genuinely curious. Ophelia shuffled uncomfortably. Telling Charlie the truth would result in either him becoming uselessly overexcited over the prospect of facing a real dragon, or him becoming uselessly overprotective and denying her information in hopes of deterring her from her plans. She decided the less he knew, the better.

“It’s… for an essay for Kettleburn,” she lied, trying to keep her face from looking guilty. “I’m rubbish at Care of Magical Creatures, so I offered to write a research paper for extra credit.” Charlie’s brow furrowed, and he let out a short dry chuckle.

“I’ve written so many essays on dragons for extra credit that Kettleburn won’t give me extra credit for them anymore. I still write the essays though. Can’t know too much about dragons, as far as I’m concerned.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I guess… weakness would really depend on the dragon? Different dragons have different strengths, so your defense strategy should be based on what kind of dragon you know you’re about to deal with. They’ve all got different temperaments and attack methods, you know.” Ophelia nodded enthusiastically, encouraging him to continue. “For example, Peruvian Vipertooths are venomous, so you’d want to prepare for poison damage. They’re also smaller and wicked quick, so you’ve got to be prepared to keep your eye on them. Romanian Longhorns primarily attack with their horns, so they’re better to be apprehended from a distance, since those horns really get in the way. Hungarian Horntails can shoot fire as far as 50 feet, so even at a distance they’re incredibly dangerous. If you get any closer than that, you’re also at risk of being on the receiving end of its tail, which it can control like a spiky 5th limb and really mess you up.” Charlie seemed completely unperturbed by the perils he was describing. Rather, his eyes had glazed over a bit and a giddy smile was dancing on his lips just thinking about the beasts.

“What’s a good general weakness, though? Something indiscriminate, regardless of breed. What’s a dragon’s most general weak point?” Ophelia pushed, trying to shake Charlie from his daze with a fresh sense of urgency.

“The eye, I guess? Dragons are pretty heavily armored all around though, so you’d be hard-pressed to even get close enough to get an accurate shot anywhere near the face. A common attack is the conjunctivitis curse, but a blind dragon would probably be even more volatile, since you’d just be scaring it. A blind dragon is still a dangerous one that can breathe fire or spike you to death.” Ophelia’s mind was racing, and although she continued to walk alongside him, she had already started to tune Charlie out as he began to tangent about unrelated dragon facts. She supposed learning the conjunctivitis curse was a solid first step, but everything Charlie had said so far had done absolutely nothing to raise her spirits. He was so caught up in his ramblings on dragons that he barely noticed as she slipped backwards to rejoin the Ravenclaw crowd.

The dueling club room was as full as ever, with the familiar sight of professor Dordee silently appraising the crowd from the end of the raised platform, his eyes darting around quickly in response to the movement and voices in the room. As usual, Diego was hovering at the entrance, ready to intercept her as she brought up the rear of the Ravenclaw crowd.

“You’re my first partner,” he said excitedly before Ophelia could even get a greeting in. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she didn’t have to wait long for an explanation before Professor Dordee stepped towards the middle of the room and commanded the attention of its students.

“I think you’ve all seen quite enough of my demonstrations, so starting tonight we will be working through a tournament system that will continue into the next several weeks. The winner will, of course, be a likely candidate for house champion and coach, and this will hopefully give you all a chance to go up against duelers outside of your friends and comfort zones. The champion will also win a significant number of house points, so I suggest you don’t hold back. Based on my observance of your sparring the last few weeks, I have already determined the pairings for the first matches, and the first few brackets will be year-locked to avoid an unbalanced match. Elder students, established coaches, and house champions will be introduced later in the tournament, bypassing some of the qualifying rounds.”

As he spoke, people already began to move towards the back of the room towards a large blackboard that took up much of the wall behind Ophelia and Diego. The brackets had already been neatly drawn out, with all of the students’ names filling in the blank spaces in a uniform cursive font. From her place near the door, she saw that Diego’s earlier statement was true; the two were indeed paired up for their first match, but it seemed as though they weren’t set to duel that night. As respective coaches, the winner of their match would be inserted into the tournament a few rounds into the event, bypassing several of the preliminary matches. A fair few of her friends were matched against each other in preceding rounds, but as Professor Dordee had stated, this meant that they were bound to duel people they’d never experienced very quickly. Facing their own friends might even be a hindrance when they were encouraged to hold nothing back. To her slight dismay, she saw that she and her friends were unlikely to start dueling each other for several weeks, giving time for the younger students to rise through the tournament and establish themselves at the same level as the older duelers. In fact, it seemed that most of the 6th years wouldn’t even start dueling each other until as late as December, depending on the results of the earlier rounds. She stepped back as the crowd around the blackboard grew, and she turned to speak to Diego, who winked at her.

“Does it really make sense putting two of the best duelers against each other so early? Won’t that ruin the potential anticipation of a big match between the us later?” Ophelia asked, a wry grin playing on her face.

“Professor Dordee said it would be paired up based on perceived skill level, so it only makes sense we would be the first to face each other. Besides, if we started off by dueling other people, we might risk one of us getting knocked out early by a fluke, so we’ll never get to face off at all. Might as well make an entrance with a bang, eh?” Diego was practically bouncing on his feet, his excitement for the tournament barely contained behind his wide smile. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Ophelia couldn’t help but be filled with eager anticipation as she looked back up at the board. Just looking at the odd pairs going up, she was entirely unsure of how each match would pan out.

Ismelda Murk vs. Jae Kim  
Benjamin Copper vs. Tulip Karasu  
Charles Weasley vs. Andre Egwu  
Barnaby Lee vs. Merula Snyde  
Talbott Winger vs. Nymphadora Tonks  
Penelope Haywood vs. Rowan Khanna

Once every student had figured out their place in the tournament, the crowd began to congregate around the raised platform, their eyes on Professor Dordee and two scrappy-looking first years. Between the two of them, they probably only knew a handful of dueling spells at best, but Ophelia knew better than to write them off too quickly. She herself had tried to learn new defensive spells as quickly as she could, and she was excited to see how far they would be able to progress into the tournament.

The first years were evidentially a force to be reckoned with. Within the span of the meeting, the club was able to see several matches between the young students, which were shorter than usual in length given the lack of experience of the duelers, but were exciting to watch nonetheless. What the students lacked in knowledge of higher-level spells they made up for in agility, creativity, and blatant disregard for several rules. Almost all of them had taken Professor Dordee’s philosophies of spontaneity to heart, and were firing unexpected spells rapidly at each other, keeping the room of spectators on their toes. A few students had even taken the liberty of throwing potions and dungbombs in lieu of casting the appropriate spells, a method which Professor Dordee not only permitted, but seemed impressed and entertained by. By the end of the evening, 4 clear victors stood proudly at the end of the raised platform set to advance to later duels in the weeks following the remaining first year rounds. At Professor Dordee’s dismissal, Ophelia made towards the door to help Andre gather the Ravenclaws, but she was quickly pulled back into the crowd by an unseen hand. She turned, expecting to face Diego again, but was surprised to find herself facing Merula.

“We’re meeting in the library after potions on Friday,” she said in a low voice as the crowd around them began to file noisily towards the door. Her tone did not allow for disagreement or refusal. “I got Lee to shut up about puffskeins for long enough to talk about dragons, but you had better have gotten some better information from Weasley by then.”

Ophelia opened her mouth to respond, but Merula had already turned on her heel and was halfway to the door before Ophelia could think to stop her. She huffed in frustration and she followed the dwindling crowd out of the room. The gap Merula had left was quickly filled by Rowan, who watched Merula leave with a suspicious look in her eye.

“What did Snyde want this time?” She asked, hovering near Ophelia as the Ravenclaw students were gathered to be walked back up to their dormitories.

“She wants to study together,” Ophelia replied dismally. She had been so caught up in the excitement of getting some headway on dragon weaknesses from Charlie that she had forgotten that she would have to eventually sit down and discuss it with Merula.

“You’re studying without me?” Rowan asked, genuinely surprised and just a little bit offended that she hadn’t been invited. Rowan prided herself on being the most coveted study buddy at Hogwarts. Ophelia laughed and shook her head.

“Yeah, it’s for a defense against the dark arts thing, I promise you’re not missing out on anything, and it’s not like I’m friends with her.” Ophelia quickly explained to quell the offense Rowan had taken, and Rowan’s expression relaxed considerably. Ophelia had been careful over the past few weeks to not let on to her friends that she had been collaborating exclusively with Merula to break the portrait vault. She felt bad about the white lies she had given her friends when they asked about her sudden spike in interaction with Merula, but knowing just how dangerous this vault would be had deterred her from wanting to include her closest friends. She had a sinking intuition that the dragon wasn’t the only danger they would encounter in the vault.

“We missed you for most of dinner,” Rowan said, purposefully changing the subject away from Merula. Ophelia was extremely grateful to talk about anything else.

“Oh yeah, I took my free period to take a bath in the prefects bathroom.” Ophelia said blithely, purposefully glossing over the other events that had transpired since.

“I was about to say, you smell terrific. I can’t wait to be head girl and use that bathroom,” Rowan added with a longing sigh as the two began walking back up towards Ravenclaw Tower. “I’d do anything to get away from Tulip’s singing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jkr may be a terf but this is my story now. if I ever write anything reminiscent of the racist/antisemetic/transphobic/homophobic/etc content in the books, let me know so I can do better. I'm writing the content i want to see in the world set in a universe that was, is, and always will be very dear to me.


	9. I Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I've moved further than I thought I could  
>  But I missed you more than I thought I would  
> And I'll use you as a warning sign  
> That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind_

The midmorning sun illuminated the sparsely occupied library, but Ophelia and Merula were tucked away at a shadowy table towards the back, keeping them well out of view of most of the other library patrons and Madam Pince. Enchanted tomes flapped lazily through the dusty sunbeams, the muted ruffling of their pages mingling with the scratching of quills on parchment in the otherwise silent library. Ophelia looked up from her book and allowed her gaze to wander across the room, ultimately settling on Merula, who was mostly obscured by a tall pile of books between them. Merula was absorbed in her own reading, her magenta eyes barely blinking as she took in the words on the page. She glanced up quickly to catch Ophelia looking at her and scowled.

“You’re not going to find a defensive strategy to fight dragons on my face, Fawley,” she hissed, careful not to draw the attention of the prowling librarian. “You’d better have some good information if you’re done reading.” Ophelia frowned and looked down at her book again. Merula glared for another few seconds before returning to her book as well. They had been at this for nearly an hour now, but all of this reading up on dragons had done absolutely nothing to quell Ophelia’s fears. If anything, she had only been forced to come to terms with exactly how powerful and dangerous dragons were, and how it would take impeccable spellcasting in combination with impossible luck just to make it out of the next vault alive. As Charlie had said, dragonhide was nearly impossible to penetrate physically and magically, leaving very few vulnerable spots to aim for. Transfiguring the dragon was entirely out of the question, since neither of them could dream of having the skill to do so, and even if they were able to neutralize the teeth or spikes, they were still going to have to face fire breath and several tons of pure reptilian mass. Ophelia sighed again as she turned the page of her book.

“If you’re not going to focus, maybe it’s not worth my time to try to save your brother. Maybe even you know deep down that he’s a lost cause,” Merula muttered. Ophelia kept her head down; Merula had offered a similar string of commentary intermittently throughout their joint study session, and Ophelia was trying her best to knuckle under and bear through it. “I wish Rakepick were still here, she’d be able to teach us how to take down a dragon,” Merula continued.

“Rakepick did nothing but make us run errands for her own agenda,” Ophelia replied in the most level voice she could muster, her eyes still not looking up from the page. “If you’re as powerful as you think you are, there’s nothing you can’t learn on your own that we could learn from her.” Merula responded with a noncommittal hum, and Ophelia allowed herself a small satisfied smile. Several years of working opposite and alongside Merula had taught her that playing to Merula’s ego was the easiest and quickest way to shut her up.

“I still think blinding the dragon is a weak move, a suggestion I would only expect from Weasley,” Merula hissed again after a few more minutes of silence. “There’s got to be a way we can really blast--”

Merula was cut off by a bell ringing somewhere in the distance, signaling the end of the class period and the beginning of the passing period. Ophelia rushed to her feet and hurriedly swept her checked out books into her bag while Merula watched her with a surprised expression. The two shared their next class together, so Ophelia’s rush to get away from Merula would only offer a very short relief of her company. Ophelia didn’t care though. She was eager to get far away from this dark corner of the library with Merula. She had put her all into getting information from Charlie, scouring Jacob’s room for additional clues in the past week, and spending the last hour researching dragon defense while Merula hissed her unwarranted opinion every few minutes. Ophelia felt that she deserved the head start towards the grounds just so she could have a few extra minutes of Merula-free peace before her next class. She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked briskly out of the library without looking back.

“How was studying?” Rowan asked sympathetically the second Ophelia settled herself next to her against the paddock’s stone fence in the clearing where Care of Magical Creatures was held. Ophelia rolled her head back to the sky and groaned loudly in response. “Hmm, that bad?” Rowan said, massaging Ophelia’s shoulder with one hand.

“I can never tell whether she actually wants to work with me or not!” Ophelia said, rubbing her temple. “We both know we need to work together, but she makes it so difficult! She spends almost as much time criticizing and insulting me as she does doing actual work.”

“I could always study with you,” Rowan offered kindly.

“No offense, Ro,” Ophelia said with a small laugh, “but you’re abysmal at defense against the dark arts.” Rowan offered no rebuttal and laughed in agreement, mirroring Ophelia’s position against the wall so that they were both resting on their elbows, their faces looking up at the canopy.

*

Now that they were at N.E.W.T. level, Ophelia shared nearly all of her classes with Merula, and it took considerable effort to avoid any and all contact with her. Ophelia was grateful that Merula had taken it upon herself to grant Ophelia a reprieve of her company for the rest of the day and weekend following their study session in the library, but as they hadn’t established a follow-up session for the near future, Ophelia was constantly anxious about opening the portrait vault in a timely manner. Now that they had the clues they needed, everything seemed to be moving in double time, and every minute not spent agonizing on curse-breaking felt like time she was personally letting everyone in the castle down. She wished she could talk to her friends, or really anyone besides Merula about breaking this curse, but that would mean potentially divulging and including them in her plan. As Merula had stated firmly on several occasions, the less people they involved, the better.

“Are you okay, Ophelia?” Ben asked kindly as he, Ophelia, and Rowan walked down the winding staircase from the astronomy tower. As 6th years in N.E.W.T. astronomy, they were granted clemency for being out several hours past curfew for class-mandated star-gazing, but they were under strict instructions to go straight back to their dormitories. They were walking quickly towards the grand staircase, eager to avoid Snape or Filch. Ophelia blinked, shaken from her thoughts of dragonfire, and looked at Ben with what she hoped was an innocent expression. “You’ve been quiet all class, and we haven’t seen as much of you lately. Is it because of Merula?” Ben continued, his brown eyes surveying her with worry. Rowan followed his gaze, a matching expression of concern on her own face while they waited for Ophelia to answer.

“I’m just… stressed... about legilimancy lessons” Ophelia lied with a fairly unconvincing shrug. “I’m worried I’m not practicing enough on my own, and I’m just barely getting the hang of nonverbal casting.” Ben and Rowan visibly grimaced and nodded sympathetically. Ophelia hadn’t divulged the full extent of her lessons with Snape, which had continued to go poorly, but Rowan and Ben were entirely capable of imagining the discomfort and struggle of Snape rifling through their memories like a magazine.

“We’re worried though, Ophelia, you know you can talk to us if-” Rowan’s words were cut off with a crack and a wet splat as an egg collided with the side of her head, seemingly out of nowhere. She yelped loudly, her hand flying to her hair, which was now dripping with egg slime.

“DUCK!” Ben suddenly shouted, dragging both of them down as several more eggs came hurling at them from the darkness ahead, splattering in rapid succession against the stone wall behind them. A loud, gleeful cackle broke through the silence, and Peeves materialized ahead of them, floating high in the air with a few dozen eggs cradled in one arm. His free hand was grabbing the eggs one by one and hurling them at the trio with an almost robotic speed and accuracy. Another slew of eggs came flying at them, smashing against their hair, robes, and the floor around them.

“PEEVES!” Filch’s enraged yell came from down the hall. Somewhere around the corner, the firelight of a lantern flickered against the stone wall, growing brighter every second. Peeves shrieked with mirth again and continued throwing the eggs in every direction, covering the surrounding walls, floors, and ceiling with broken eggshells and yolk. Rowan, Ben, and Ophelia looked at each other fearfully. Regardless of their involvement in Peeves’ misconduct, they definitely didn’t want to be around when Filch arrived and saw the mess. Without saying a word, Ben turned and pulled them towards a door to their right, which Ophelia wasn’t entirely sure had been there a minute before. However, she didn’t hesitate to follow Ben and Rowan into the empty classroom, slamming the door behind her as she went. Behind the door, she could hear Filch’s angry ranting and sputtering, and the three hoped against all hope that Filch didn’t have reason to look into this room and report them for breaking curfew more than they were allowed to. However, after a few minutes of angry caretaker and cat noises, the chaos died down, and the hallway outside was gratefully quiet once more.

Ophelia looked over her shoulder from where she was guarding the door, but was surprised to see that they hadn’t ended up in an empty classroom. The room itself was certainly empty, save for a large ornate mirror standing in the center of the room. The moonlight it reflected from the surrounding windows made it look as though it was sitting in a glowing pool, drawing all eyes to it.

Rowan, who had run furthest into the room when they entered, was standing a few feet in front of the mirror examining her reflection. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses and her mouth was hanging open a little, as if in disbelief of her own appearance. Ben, who had stayed close to Ophelia while she manned the door, was watching Rowan with a mix of curiosity and fear. Ophelia stepped away from the door and towards the mirror, but Ben held out an arm, barring her from getting too close.

“What’ve you got there, Rowan?” Ben called out cautiously, while Rowan continued to gaze silently at the mirror, hardly blinking.

“You guys… have got to see this,” Rowan breathed, gesturing for them to join her while her eyes remained glued to her reflection. Ben stiffened a little, his brow furrowed. Ophelia shot him an apprehensive look but led him wordlessly across the room so that they were standing on either side of Rowan. Nothing could have prepared Ophelia for what she saw next.

In the mirror she saw herself, Rowan, and Ben, all standing next to each other, slightly slack-jawed. On Ophelia’s other side was Jacob, grinning at her. He was older than she had last seen him, but it had been 7 years after all, and he would be about 23 by now. He was taller, and his face was more narrow and less boyish. However, his overgrown brown hair was the same as she remembered it, and his familiar grey eyes glinted behind the same round glasses. He placed one hand against the mirror, trapped on the other side. Ophelia couldn’t believe she’d found him, healthy, happy, standing right in front of her but still just out of reach. Of course, everyone was trapped in paintings, and he was trapped in a mirror. All she had to do was get him out, and she was done, she wouldn’t have to bother at all with dragonfire and Merula.

“Oh my god,” Ophelia gasped in a voice barely above a whisper, her hand raising to meet Jacob’s against the glass.

“Right!” Rowan responded, her voice equally quiet but far more excitable.

“So you can see him? You can see Jacob?” Ophelia asked, her voice rising excitedly. Rowan and Ben turned to her with matching looks of confusion. Ophelia’s brow furrowed, and she gestured towards Jacob, who continued to grin at the three of them as if this were a joke to him.

“See… Jacob?” Ben asked slowly, his brow raising. “No, I only see me, but I’m… brave, and strong.”

“What?” Ophelia asked exasperatedly. Jacob was right there, clear as day. He had removed his hand from the glass and was waving at the three of them. What was Ben even talking about. “Jacob is trapped in this mirror, he’s right there! We just need to free him!”

“I don’t see Jacob either, Ophelia,” Rowan said a little guiltily. “I don’t see anyone trapped in the mirror, I just see myself, but I’m older, and a professor.” She gestured to the mirror, and Ophelia turned and peered at their reflection, but all she saw was herself, her friends, and Jacob staring back at her. 

“I’m a knight…” Ben said out loud to no one in particular. “Sir Cadogan made me a knight, and gave me a suit of armor. I defeated a dragon. I’ve never looked so sure of myself…” Ophelia stomach flipped at the mention of a dragon, but despite Ben’s insistence, all she saw was him standing there in his robes, with egg still dripping from his hem.

“I’ve got so many awards. I’m the youngest professor ever at Hogwarts. Dumbledore is shaking my hand. I’ve got… so many books around me.” Rowan breathed, addressing the room with the same excited fervor as Ben. She turned to Ophelia, her eyes sparking. “Ophelia, do you think this mirror can predict the future?”

“No!” Ophelia said frustratedly, stomping her foot down. “Because Jacob is trapped in this mirror. It’s obviously cursed or something, and we need to free him!” She was on the verge of tears, angry that not only were these two blind to the fact that her brother was standing right in front of them, but that they were also clearly not taking this incredible find as seriously as she was. Ben stumbled backwards at the suggestion of the mirror being cursed, but Rowan stood her ground, her brow furrowed as she took in the mirror as a whole. Ophelia flourished her wand and pointed it at the mirror, ready to wring the curse out of it until Jacob came walking out of the mirror as though he’d hardly been gone a day.

“Ophelia, stop.” Rowan said firmly, placing her hand on Ophelia’s wrist. Ophelia turned to Rowan, silently pleading with her to look closer and see Jacob Fawley standing there. Jacob’s smile in the reflection had faltered, and he was staring at Ophelia with a grim look on his face. Rowan pointed towards the rune-like script around the edge of the top of the mirror with her free hand, and Ophelia’s eye’s followed Rowan’s finger. “Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.” Rowan read aloud. “I show not your face but your heart's desire, it’s backwards.” She turned to Ben who was still hovering nervously a few feet behind them to give himself distance from the mirror. “It’s alright Ben, I don’t think it’s cursed. Or at least, I don’t think it’s dangerous, but…” she turned to Ophelia with another apologetic look on her face, “I don’t think it’s real.” Ophelia still had her wand raised. Her eyes darted between the reversed writing at the top of the mirror, to Rowan, to Jacob, who continued to gaze at her with an expression of somber contemplation.

“But… he’s there! How can that not be him?” Ophelia asked desperately. She had been so ready to see Jacob again that she had easily disregarded the fact that whatever she was looking at was almost definitely not really him. After 7 years of being trapped, there was no way he would just stand there and grin at her, as happy and healthy as he had been the last day she had seen him.

“I mean… Ben isn’t a knight, and I’m not a professor. It’s what we want, but it’s not true. Jacob isn’t there, Ophelia” Rowan said sadly. Jacob nodded solemnly at her, and Ophelia felt angry tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes. Rowan was obviously right, but it didn’t make the truth any easier to bear.

“We should leave before Filch gets back to clean up the eggs” Ben said from behind them, his eyes darting to the door. Rowan nodded and relaxed her grip on Ophelia’s wrist. Ophelia lowered her arm and stowed her wand.

“Ben’s right,” Rowan said, taking a step away from the mirror and back towards the door. Ophelia didn’t move. She looked back at the mirror. With Rowan and Ben out of the frame, it was just her and Jacob standing there. Jacob had a hand resting on Ophelia’s shoulder, his expression still somber. Ophelia could almost feel the weight of his fingers, but Rowan was right; he wasn’t real.

“I just… I… I want to stay with him, just a bit longer,” Ophelia said, a hint of plea in her tone.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rowan said. “Nothing good can come from this mirror, and it’s way past curfew. If Filch catches us, we’ll be in detention until Christmas.” Rowan put a hand on Ophelia’s shoulder, and the contrast of her real, physical touch to Jacob’s phantom one was enough to ground Ophelia just a bit. She nodded and tore her gaze from the mirror, following her friends back towards the door. At the doorway she looked back at the mirror. It’s reflection was the same as it was earlier, the glare of the moonlight turning the surface of the mirror an opaque silver, bathing the surrounding area in an ethereal glow. She wordlessly turned back to the door and exited the room, allowing Rowan to silently lead her back to the Ravenclaw common room.

When Ophelia went back the following night for just one more glimpse at her long-lost brother, she couldn’t even find the door to the room.

*

The following week seemed to pass at double speed. There was never enough time to put the work she wanted to into her assignments, teachers were moving on with the curriculum faster than she could keep up, and somewhere below the castle, a dragon waited for her.

Merula had been notably quiet and had largely kept to herself since their study session in the library, and Ophelia had taken it to mean that she had accepted their half-baked plan to blind the dragon, run like hell, and hope for the best. It was admittedly an absolutely terrible plan, but neither of them had been able to come up with anything remotely better, and it was unlikely that they would uncover the knowledge or power to achieve anything more sophisticated than that. All that was left was to establish a date of attack, an event that Ophelia was both grateful and anxious to postpone.

She had been so caught up in her impending fight with a dragon that she was completely caught off guard by Bill’s response to the letter she had written over 2 weeks ago. Eager to see his response, she had excused herself from the breakfast table and had taken the letter out into the entrance hall to read in private.

_Ophelia!_

_First of all, I’m so sorry I didn’t write back sooner! Egypt is amazing in every way you could imagine, but I’ve also been swamped with nonstop assignments for weeks. Rakepick knows how to keep me busy, but I wouldn’t want it any other way._

_Speaking of Rakepick, I can not insist strongly enough that you reach out to her before attempting to break this vault. I know how personal this is to you, but there is nothing in that vault that is worth risking your life over (or even Merula’s life!). Rakepick is a powerful witch and a useful cohort, and any grudge you have against her isn’t worth letting get in the way of surviving this vault._

_However, I haven’t told Rakepick anything, per your request, but again, I urge you to do so of your own volition. We both know Merula as a person, and I fear that placing your trust entirely in her might be an unwise choice. Remember that you have friends everywhere at Hogwarts. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you like I used to be, but I know my brothers will always be more than willing to pick up the slack. Jacob or not, you will always have a second family at Hogwarts among the Weasleys._

_Take care of yourself,_

_-Bill_

Ophelia clutched his letter in her hands, reading and rereading it over and over. She trusted Bill more than any adult in her life. Granted, he was only 2 years older than she was, but he had always held himself with a maturity that made him feel wiser beyond his years. If he thought she should bring Rakepick into the picture, it was definitely something she would consider, despite her own personal misgivings about the woman. Unfortunately, that would mean running the idea past Merula, and effectively going against her original stance on the matter. As much as she didn’t trust Merula with her own life, she owed it to her to keep her involved with every single step of planning that would lead them to the next vault. If she was even thinking about reaching out to Rakepick, Merula would need to know about it first.

She sighed and straightened up, ready to head directly to the Slytherin table with Bill’s letter, but was instead intercepted by the exact person she had intended to find.

“Fawley!” Merula called as she came up the stairs from the dungeons. Ophelia waited for her to join her at the door to the Great Hall, but Merula walked past her and stood just behind the large statue of the wizened witch at the back of the hall, gesturing aggressively for Ophelia to meet her there. Ophelia obliged without argument, slipping past the doorway to meet Merula in the shadows.

“Halloween,” Merula said in a low voice.

“Halloween?” Ophelia repeated, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Yes, October the 31st, ever heard of it? We’re going into the vault on Halloween, it’s the perfect cover. Everyone will be at the feast, no one will notice we’re gone, and hopefully it’ll be noisy enough that no one will notice that we’ve woken up a dragon under the castle.” Merula said, rolling her eyes.

“That’s… soon.” Ophelia said, her stomach wrenching itself into an anxious knot. Halloween was little over a week away by now, which meant their plan was as good as solidified. It also left little room to involve anyone else in their scheme if they were going to stick to that deadline.

“Who’s the letter from?” Merula asked sharply, pointing at the letter in Ophelia’s hands.

“Bill,” Ophelia replied defensively.

“Ughh, not that idiot. Please tell me you didn’t tell him about the you-know-what in the you-know-where” Merula hissed behind gritted teeth. Ophelia rolled her eyes and handed the letter over for Merula to read herself.

“I didn’t tell him anything specific, but he thinks we should involve Rakepick. And I think maybe he’s right. I know I was against it before, but like you said, she probably knows more effective ways of dealing with a dragon than blinding it and hoping for the best” Ophelia said while Merula’s eyes glanced over the letter for any incriminating details.

“Absolutely not,” Merula snapped, folding the letter and pushing it back into Ophelia’s hands with an air of disdain. “Like _you_ said, we don’t work for her, and bringing her into this is just begging for her to put herself in charge again while we do her dirty work. Since you mentioned it, I thought it over and I’m sick of her taking credit for our hard work. We busted a gut to get that portrait, and she jumped ship the minute she got bored.”

“ _I_ got that vault portrait,” Ophelia corrected in a low voice, but Merula dismissively waved her hands as if she were swatting her words away.

“No extra people. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, and above all we want to minimize casualty if it all goes pear-shaped.”

“Fine,” Ophelia snapped back, stowing Bill’s letter in her robes. “But since neither of us know shit about dragons, I still think we need to come clean about our predicament and honestly consult an expert. Like your old prefect Felix. He's a professional dragonologist. Or Charlie!” Ophelia added eagerly. She knew Charlie would probably be starstruck at the idea of facing a real-life dragon, but he would certainly be able to defend against one more competently than she and Merula put together.

“No, you may not bring your crush along,” Merula snapped.

“I – what, I – that’s not – I do not!” Ophelia sputtered, incredibly aware of how hot her face had become. “We’re not – and even if I did, it’s not like—we’re not like that! He doesn’t like me like that, we’re just friends. That’s all we’ll ever be.” she said. She was speaking honestly; her relationship with Charlie had always been platonic, and she had never once considered that it could develop into anything more. Sure, he was smart, athletic, popular, and the best-looking boy in the year, but he was also Bill’s brother, and Bill was a brother to her. She was honestly floored that Merula would even suggest something so completely ridiculous. However, to her surprise, Merula’s expression had gone from disdainful to genuinely apologetic.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s ok. I mean… I know what it’s like.” Merula said, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her robes. She was starting to turn a little red in the face as well, and Ophelia couldn’t honestly think of a time she had ever seen Merula more vulnerable. Merula looked up at Ophelia’s confused expression and raised her eyebrows pointedly, glancing towards the open doors to the Great Hall. “I mean, I know what it’s like to have an impossible crush, where it’ll never work out. I’m sorry for that.” Ophelia was so utterly floored by Merula’s response that she couldn’t even correct her on her completely incorrect statement.

Merula was quiet for a beat, but quickly seemed to get a hold of herself, and her expression became irritable again. Ophelia was still completely dumbstruck. She had always suspected that Barnaby had been an item of Merula’s affection before Ophelia had siphoned him off to join her own friend group, but she had no idea that Merula still harbored affections for him. Despite being in the same house, Ophelia’s friendship with Barnaby had put considerable distance, both physically and emotionally, between him and Merula, and for the first time in years, Ophelia felt a little guilty for that. Merula looked as though she had long since moved past that part of the conversation, and was clicking her fingers in Ophelia’s face to harness her attention again.

“Halloween, 7pm, meet me by the kitchens. It’s just us two now, we’re the only ones who can do this.” Merula said, and without waiting for a response she turned and marched through the doors to the Great Hall without looking back, leaving Ophelia in the statue’s shadow. Ophelia watched her go, her head still spinning. Her and Charlie?... Well, that really was just ridiculous.


	10. Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I haven't told anyone  
>  Just like we promised  
> Have you?_

Halloween was by far one of Ophelia’s favorite holidays. She loved everything about it. She loved the extravagant decorations, with the floating giant pumpkins large enough to fit several first-years inside and the live bats that fluttered around them. She loved the traditional Hogsmeade trip, where she and her friends would go trick-or-treating at Honeydukes before gathering for a cozy drink at The Three Broomsticks. She loved how excitable the ghosts became, and how even Professor Binns became just a bit more engaging in his classes during the festivities. And above all, she loved the feast, with the mountains of confectionaries, the specialty dishes, the entertainment, and the jovial atmosphere.

Unfortunately, Ophelia didn’t have the stomach to face her friends at all that day. She had come to terms with the fact that she could very well die facing a dragon that night, and had instead spent most of the day holed up alone in Jacob’s room to avoid them. At first, she had tried to spend her time deciphering his old notes as a way to distract from the painful knots in her stomach. However, after several fruitless attempts, she quickly resigned herself to tidying up the space just to have something productive to do. Her and her friends’ past attempts at organizing the room had been superficial sorting and stacking, but Ophelia was willing to bet that the room hadn’t been properly dusted since before Jacob had set foot in it.

She had been at it for several hours at this point, but she felt as though her efforts had hardly made a dent. She had managed to conjure a free-floating light source to illuminate the room while she worked with both hands, but all this had done was shed light on how much work the room needed, and how little she had really accomplished. Along one wall she had managed to straighten some of the paper piles and boxes so that they weren’t leaning so precariously. She had also managed to scourge a good number of cobwebs and dust from the covered armchair in the corner, although she still had her reservations about sitting in it. She attributed her slow pace to how distracted she would get every time she uncovered a new document, but a minute of reading would confirm that it was something she had previously read, or had at least attempted to read. Come to think of it, a lot of the disorganization in the room could definitely be attributed to her and her friends. Maybe Jacob had always had some convoluted organization system all along, and she had come along and messed that up by shuffling through his work. It certainly wasn’t something she would past him.

Lost in her thoughts, she accidentally tripped over a box that had been partially hidden under the armchair’s dustcover. She went toppling to the ground, taking several recently stacked boxes down with her with a resounding thud.

She rolled onto her back and sighed, uninjured but resolutely put out. She sat up and examined the damage.

Several of the boxes she had knocked over when she fell had been upended, the contents splayed out on the floor. Miraculously, the box she had tripped over had stayed upright, although it was considerably dented from her trip. She frowned. She hadn’t noticed the box while cleaning the armchair, and she was certain that she hadn’t come across it before.

Disregarding the mess she had just created, she reached forward and pulled the mystery box towards her. She propped it on her lap for closer inspection. The lid had been knocked askew, revealing the contents inside.

The box was relatively empty, considering how heavy and sturdy it had been when she tripped over it. It contained a number of crumpled handwritten notes, a few folded letters, an empty butterbeer bottle, and a few polaroid photos. Ophelia’s heart leapt to her throat; she had definitely never seen any of this before. These contents might contain something that could give some sorely-needed hints about the vaults, or at least any clues on how to fight a dragon. She immediately reached for the collection of notes. Her brow furrowed as she rapidly read through them, unable to immediately recognize the handwriting as Jacob’s. However, she quickly realized it was an collection of messages from Duncan and Olivia to Jacob, and her heart sunk past her chest and into her stomach.

Ophelia shuffled through the notes, reading each one several times over. There were snatches of familiar words and phrases that caused her heart to skip a beat, but there were also several instances that she couldn’t make any sense of at all. Any reservations she had maintained about respecting Jacob’s privacy in his personal matters had since been thrown out the window, and she was drinking up these mementos of his social life with a fervid interest.

With these notes, she finally had a little more insight on Jacob’s relationships with his friends, but the vagueness of the notes only raised more questions than they answered. For every scrap of information she obtained about Duncan, she seemed to learn less about Olivia. The only thing that was evident was that Jacob had a different dynamic with each of his friends, and his friends certainly had a conflicted dynamic between themselves.

Moving past the bittersweet assortment of notes, she drew her attention to the small collection of faded polaroids. They had been dated at the bottom in Jacob’s recognizably untidy scrawl, indicating a timeframe that would cover Jacob’s 4th, 5th, and 6th years.

Her stomach dropped again at the first picture, a photo of Duncan Ashe laughing, sprawled under a tree near the lake; she had never seen him so opaque, colorful, and… alive. It was sometimes so easy to forget that only a few years ago he had been a living child, but here was the proof sitting in her lap. His hair was a light chestnut, his cheeks were ruddy, and his dark eyes glinted in a mischievous way that Ophelia had never fully appreciated in his ghostly form.

Several of the photos featured an olive-skinned girl with long black hair and pale gray eyes magnified behind large round glasses. A shiny Ravenclaw prefects badge was pinned prominently to the front of her robes in several of the later shots. In almost every picture, she had a book in her arms, lap, or face, and was often sheepishly trying to get out of the frame or smiling shyly. She struck Ophelia as remarkably like Rowan, and Ophelia knew immediately that this must be Olivia Green.

Presumably serving as the photographer, Jacob was in very few of the photos, but Ophelia’s heart picked up at the occasional snap of Jacob with Duncan’s arm slung around him, Jacob sleeping on an open textbook next to a studious Olivia, Jacob’s face largely obscured by a magically oversized tankard of butterbeer, Jacob doubled over laughing at some unknown joke…

He looked almost as she remembered him when she last saw him in person, when she was 9 years old, and he had just returned home for the winter holidays. He had been quiet and thoroughly put out, refusing to speak to anyone and shutting himself away almost as soon as he arrived home. She had found out after the fact that he had been expelled from school and suspected of killing another student, but not before he had run away, seemingly leaving her life for good. However, in these photos, he looked more happy and easygoing among his friends than she had ever seen him herself. His face had that youthful softness to it, his rounded glasses and overgrown curly hair askew while he struggled under Duncan’s playful embrace. If Ophelia didn’t know any better, she would say that he looked just like a normal 16-year old boy.

She was shaken from her reverie by the sound of heavy knocking on the door behind her. She was grateful that she had thought to securely lock it again behind her to avoid any unwanted intrusions, but she had stupidly brought the padlock inside with her, suggesting from the outside that the room was unlocked and occupied.

“Ophelia, are you in there?” Penny’s voice rang out, muffled behind the thick wood. The door rattled aggressively as someone tried to pull on the handle, but it remained locked. “Ophelia?” she called out again. Ophelia froze, breathing shallowly so as to make as little sound as possible. She was grateful that the door was heavy enough to prevent her conjured light from leaking into the hallway outside and giving away her position.

“The locks gone” came Rowan’s quieter voice, and the door stopped rattling.

“Son of a bitch,” Tulip’s voice grumbled, just loud enough for Ophelia to hear through the door. “Merula must’ve swiped it and locked the door with something else. But then Ophelia can’t be in here either.”

“Maybe she’s in the owlery, or the kitchens. We haven’t checked there yet,” Rowan suggested.

“Penny can go check the kitchens. You go check the library. I’ll ask Winger to check the owlery for her, and then I’ll go find Charlie to see if she’s somewhere on the grounds. If we don’t find her, we’ll just have to regroup in the Entrance Hall and go to Hogsmeade without her.”

“It’s not like her to miss Halloween Hogsmeade.” Rowan’s voice sounded concerned now.

“Or go missing first thing in the morning and not tell anyone,” Tulip added.

“Maybe she’s in the hospital wing?” Penny said, sounding even more worried than Rowan.

“She’s been weirdly cagey ever since she started hanging out with Merula. That girl is no good for anyone, and if she’s done ANYTHING to Ophelia…” Tulip trailed off, and Ophelia felt immeasurably guilty at the thought of how concerned her friends were for her in her absence. Penny, Tulip, and Rowan had always been especially protective of her, and the idea of Merula putting Ophelia in the hospital wing was bound to be riling up Tulip especially. There were some muffled footsteps, and their words became inaudible as they walked away, leaving Ophelia alone on the floor to wallow in her own guilt.

It wasn’t until several minutes later, when she could be absolutely sure there was no one outside the door, that she brought herself to her feet and picked up the documents she had scattered.

After several more unsuccessful hours of cleaning, which at this point had largely reduced to her absentmindedly pacing around the room without touching anything, she paused to take in the room around her. She had managed to tidy up the toppled boxes and their contents, with Jacob’s memento box stashed securely under the armchair again. However, in her miserable state, the room looked in even worse condition than it had when she had first entered it that day. With a deep sigh, Ophelia excused herself from the room for the day, trying to ignore the fact that it might be her last time in the room ever. Her friends should surely have given up searching for her and gone down to Hogsmeade by now, meaning the castle would be quiet and empty for the afternoon. The rest of the day was effectively hers to spend on her own terms.

She figured if she was going to skip the feast to fight a dragon, she shouldn’t do so on an empty stomach. She extinguished her light source, left the room, and reapplied the double-keyed padlock back onto the door. Hopefully she would have succeeded in her mission by the time her friends noticed the padlock was back in place, so she wouldn’t have to provide too much of an excuse. That was a better thought than the alternative.

*

The great hall was, as she had expected, almost entirely empty. Lunch had long since passed, and the feast would start shortly after students returned from the village. It seemed nearly the entire castle had gone down to the village to enjoy Halloween, leaving behind the first and second years and a handful of staff to loiter and study at the long, empty tables, nibbling on stray sandwiches and talking idly among themselves.

The hall was already lavishly decorated for the feast, but it was eerily quiet. It was as though the hall was holding its breath in anticipation for the evening. Ophelia loved Halloween decorations, but she felt so emotionally numb and distracted that she hardly even took them in. Ophelia took her seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table closest to the door, separated by several yards from the nearest students. She was grateful to see that none of her friends had stayed in the castle for the day, and she knew that none of the remaining students she did recognize would care about her unusually solitary presence.

She had barely gotten a chance to grab a sandwich and get a bite in before Professor McGonagall approached her from the staff table.

“Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office, Miss Fawley.”

“Did he say why?” Ophelia asked, trying to sound innocent but otherwise genuinely perplexed. She and Merula had been incredibly secretive about their plans to fight the dragon and break the portrait curse, so there was no conceivable way Dumbledore could have found out about it. In fact, she hadn’t done anything stupid, dangerous, or against the rules at all so far in the year, a personal record for herself.

“He did not, he only requested your presence as soon as possible. I would understand that to mean immediately.” McGonagall replied curtly. “I trust you will not need escorting, you should know the way by now.” She added with a knowing glance before turning to head back towards the staff table.

Ophelia watched her go for a few seconds, still very puzzled, before standing up and turning to exit the great hall, her food left completely untouched.

*

Dumbledore’s office was exactly as she had remembered it from multiple visits over the previous years: the napping portraits of past headmasters, the delicate brass instruments on every surface, leather-bound tomes filling up the shelves that lined the walls, and a slumbering phoenix perched next to an empty desk. In the past, she had often been too preoccupied with the fear of punishment and expulsion at the hands of the headmaster to properly appreciate the splendor of the room, but for the first time in ages she found herself alone in the peaceful office with no pending charges hanging over her head. She slowly approached the phoenix, which gently stirred as she grew near.

“Hello, Fawkes,” Ophelia said softly, stroking the bird’s scarlet head with 2 fingers. Fawkes affectionately nudged at her fingers with his beak and cooed, its eyes still drowsily half-closed. “Do you know why I’m here today?” Ophelia asked, scratching the bird’s beak with her forefinger.

“He does not, I’m afraid,” came a voice from the front of the office, and Ophelia spun around to see Professor Dumbledore standing outside the griffin staircase leading to the room. She had not heard him arrive, nor seen him elsewhere in the office, but this was certainly not the first time he had made an undetectable entrance. Ophelia sometimes wondered whether the anti-apparition charms really applied to everyone in the school, or if Dumbledore had granted himself some level of leniency for dramatic effect. 

“Am I in trouble?” Ophelia asked, turning back to Fawkes and continuing to stroke his plumes. Professor Dumbledore chuckled and walked towards her, standing across from her on the other side of the desk.

“Not today, Miss Fawley,” he said, his mouth twitching a little under his beard. “But I do find it curious that you have chosen to stay in the castle today while your friends enjoy the Halloween festivities in Hogsmeade.”

“Am I really trouble for not going to Hogsmeade?” Ophelia asked, an eyebrow raised. Dumbledore chuckled again.

“You are so like your brother, in so many ways you don’t know” Professor Dumbledore mused, walked around the desk to stand on the other side of Fawkes, who raised his head to chirp fondly. “Always ready with a quip, sharp as a manticore, and twice as dangerous…” His half-moon glasses glinted as he turned to look at her properly. “And never without the company of your closest friends.” Ophelia looked back down at the bird, trying to avoid Dumbledore’s piercing gaze. Maybe she hadn’t been quite as slick as she had thought.

“I needed to catch up on some stuff. Homework.” Ophelia said, perhaps a little too quickly to be believable. However, Dumbledore nodded in agreement, as though he was seriously considering and appreciating her dedication to her studies in lieu of celebrating Halloween. There was a moment of silence between them, as they both quietly stroked Fawkes, who was clearly loving the extra attention. Finally, Dumbledore spoke again.

“I understand that you may be feeling pressure from many sides to succeed in every endeavor you take on, and I know that must be overwhelming. However, it is not wise to isolate yourself from those who love you to protect them from your suffering.” Ophelia continued to look down, her stomach twisting with guilt. “I’d like to ask, is there anything important you would like to discuss with me that you are not ready to confide to your friends?”

Ophelia looked up at Dumbledore. She knew he was an incredibly accomplished legilimens, but countless lessons with Snape had attuned her to the sensation of someone rifling through her mind. However, she could sense that Dunbledore was not reading her thoughts, and was instead waiting for her to give an answer on her terms, honestly or not.

“No Sir, I’m just a little stressed. It’s nothing for anyone else to worry about,” Ophelia said firmly. Dumbledore looked a little disappointed, but it was sometimes difficult to tell behind the long beard and wizened eyes. There was always something about his demeanor that defaulted to contemplative and concerned.

“Alright then. Thank you for your time, Miss Fawley. You are free to go,” he said, gesturing towards the door. He took a seat behind his desk and began to busy himself with the documents on it, indicating that Ophelia needn’t prolong the meeting. Ophelia hesitated, wondering whether it was worth telling Dumbledore everything and requesting his help. After a beat, she thought better of it, and walked towards the exit on the other side of the room.

“Ophelia,” Dumbledore called from his desk, and Ophelia stopped outside the griffin staircase to face him again. He was looking directly at her, the same concerned, contemplative expression on his face.

“Yes, sir?”

“You are only 16 years old. You may be an exemplary student and budding curse-breaker, but you are also still a child. It is not your job, nor may it even be in your capacity, to save everyone you want to.” He looked grave for the first time in their meeting, his piercing gaze shooting through Ophelia like a laser, as though he really could see past her feigned innocence and into every detail of her dragon-fighting plans for the evening. For just a moment, Ophelia felt vulnerable under his stare. But then she offered him a weak smile and a half shrug.

“We must always try, Sir. For the greater good.” Ophelia said, the bravery and composure in her voice lifting her own confidence significantly. Dumbledore continued to look at her for another few seconds, but then he returned the smile warmly and nodded.

“Indeed, Miss Fawley. Happy Halloween.”

*

Ophelia hovered in the Entrance Hall at the mouth the stairs that would take her down to the dungeons and basement. Dumbledore’s words were still ringing in her mind, holding her back from stepping forward. She was still entirely unsure of how much he knew, and if he did know everything, how much he approved of it. Was he planning to intercept and shut her down later that evening? She was utterly unconvinced that it had been a coincidence for him to meet with her mere hours before she had decided to fight a dragon, but maybe she was just being paranoid. He had made a fair point that she had seldom been seen among her friends these past few weeks, and that alone was probably enough to spark suspicion.

Everyone had since returned from Hogsmeade and was now seated in the Great Hall for the start of the feast, leaving Ophelia alone to gather her wits. She had a good amount of time before she was scheduled to meet Merula, and even though she was loitering to keep to their preestablished schedule, a part of her just wanted to get everything over with as quickly as possible, regardless of the outcome. She turned to look up towards the grand staircase, wondering if she could kill the last of her time in the dormitory, possibly finding some last-minute tool to aid her in the cursed vault. However, as she turned her back to the doors leading to the grounds, she heard the voices of the people she had most been dreading to encounter.

“Ophelia! There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Ophelia stopped dead, whipping around to see Tulip and Rowan running across the entrance hall to greet her, their faces rosy and their hair windswept from the weather outside, matching expressions of relief on their faces. They stopped in front of her and took her in, suddenly looking concerned again.

“Where were you?” Rowan said, her eyes searching Ophelia’s face for an answer. “We checked everywhere! The library, the owlery, Jacob’s room, everywhere! I stayed late from Hogsmeade just in case I ran into you, and then thought you might have gone to Hogsmeade alone, but then you weren’t there either!” Rowan still looked worried, despite having found her friend safe and sound, but Tulip’s eyes had narrowed a little in suspicion.

“I was in legilimancy lessons with Snape” Ophelia replied quickly, hoping her friends would buy the lie at face value and not inquire further. Fortunately, years of living with a very overbearing mother had given her plenty of practice with lying convincingly on the spot. It seemed to work as well, as Rowan’s concern seemed to melt away, replaced by pity and sympathy. Tulip, however, still looked skeptical.

“All day?” Tulip queried, a dark eyebrow rising towards her crimson hairline.

“And then I did my potions homework and some extra practice while I was still in the dungeons.” Ophelia elaborated. Rowan visibly relaxed and smiled.

“Ohh, okay then. We didn’t check the dungeons, it didn’t even occur to us! You usually tell us when you have legilimancy lessons.” Rowan said, all signs of worry wiped from her face.

“You OPTED to stay in the dungeons after a private lesson with Snape?” Tulip said, her tone lined with disbelief.

“I’m worried Snape is looking for a reason to fail me, so I really wanted to nail that potion to induce euphoria before our exam next week.” Ophelia said, trying her best to look crestfallen and convincing.

“You don’t seem very euphoric,” Rowan said, the worry and concern starting to slip back into her voice. Tulip nodded in agreement and looked pointedly at Ophelia for an answer.

“I, ah, was actually on my way to the hospital wing. I must have drunk a faulty potion and I feel really sick.” Ophelia rubbed her stomach for emphasis. In her defense, she definitely felt physically ill at the prospect of fighting a dragon and lying to her friends about it.

“You do look a little green,” Rowan said sympathetically, raising a hand to Ophelia’s forehead to check for a fever. “We’ll escort you to the hospital wing, just in case you fall over or get sick on the way.” Tulip nodded again, agreeing to miss part of the feast to escort her perfectly healthy friend to the hospital wing.

“No, no, it’s okay. You’ve already spent too much time worrying about me today. Go inside and enjoy the feast, it looks amazing.” Ophelia looked sadly towards the colorful lights beyond the doors to the Great Hall, genuinely upset that she wouldn’t be partaking in the festivities. She turned back to her friends and offered them a brave smile. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Rowan asked imploringly, her hand squeezing Ophelia’s shoulder gently. Ophelia wanted to respond affirmatively, but her words got caught in a knot at the back of her throat. There was a very real chance she would absolutely not be okay, and she was so loved by her friends, and now she was going to leave them without so much as a goodbye.

Without warning, she threw herself at Rowan in a bone-crushingly tight embrace.

“Ophelia, hey! What’s wrong?” Rowan yelped, awkwardly returning the hug but looking very startled at the same time.

“I’m just really grateful that you guys care so much about me,” Ophelia said honestly, burying her face into Rowan’s shoulder. “You guys spent all day looking for me and you were so worried about me and you were late to Hogsmeade because of me.” She was very aware that she might cry if she didn’t pull herself together, which would certainly only lead to more questions.

“Of course,” Rowan said, patting Ophelia’s back soothingly. “We love you and you’re our friend. Our best friend.” She broke the hug and held Ophelia at arm’s length, smiling at her fondly. Ophelia, who was gratefully tear-free, returned the smile and moved to hug Tulip as well. Tulip held up a hand to stop her.

“Do NOT hug me if you’re sick, I will not have potion vomit on my last clean cardigan,” Tulip said, stepping back from Ophelia, who laughed in spite of herself.

“You sound like Andre,” Ophelia said with a small chuckle. Tulip made a face in protest, but she heartily returned the laugh, her eyes no longer narrowed with suspicion. Ophelia stepped back to give Tulip her desired personal space, and looked between her best friends, addressing them both. “Tell everyone I’m sorry for missing all day, and tell them I said Happy Halloween.” Ophelia said, gently waving her friends off towards the party in the Great Hall. The longer they lingered around her, the harder it was going to be for Ophelia to do what she needed to do. Tulip and Rowan offered supportive smiles and nodded before turning to head into the noisy Great Hall to enjoy the feast, leaving Ophelia once more completely alone in the Entrance Hall.

Once she was sure that her friends were well enough beyond the door to block her from view, Ophelia turned on her heel and headed away from the grand staircase, instead going down the stairs towards the basements. She walked quickly, feeling as though her legs were autonomously marching her towards the kitchen without any input from her brain. If her brain had any say in the matter, she would be heading right back up the stairs and joining her friends at dinner.

The chatter from the Great Hall grew distant very quickly as she descended deeper into the castle, and soon she found herself alone in a corridor with no ambient noise other than her own blood rushing in her ears. She felt as though her pounding heart was going to leap from her chest, but she continued walking towards the fork between the dungeons and the basements with purpose.

Merula was waiting at the corner, leaning against the stone wall with her arms crossed tight against her chest, hugging the two dragon portraits. Ophelia had given them to her earlier that week as a gesture of trust, and Merula had taken that trust with surprising grace. Ophelia supposed that if she and Merula were ever going to trust each other, now would be as good a time as any. As Ophelia approached, Merula’s magenta eyes narrowed slightly, and she clutched the dragon paintings closer to her body. Her face was otherwise devoid of all emotion.

“I’m not late,” Ophelia said before Merula could get a word in. Ophelia knew for a fact she was early, even after she had been intercepted by her friends in the Entrance Hall. Merula said nothing, her face still steely. Ophelia figured it might actually be best if they kept their conversations to a minimum, just to maintain a professional dynamic, but it was also a little jarring for Merula to be so stone-faced and unusually silent. Ophelia couldn’t remember the last time Merula had greeted her without a cruel quip at the ready. After a beat, Merula pushed herself off the wall, and wordlessly the pair walked down the corridor that lead to the kitchens. Ophelia’s legs continued to carry her easily down the hall, powered by the muscle memory of countless detentions spent in the kitchens. It didn’t allow her nerves a chance to rethink what they were doing and turn around.

The giant portrait of the bowl fruit looked as innocent as ever, spanning floor to ceiling in an otherwise empty hallway. Merula stopped outside the door, staring dead ahead a few feet in front of her, but her eyes seemed unfocused, as though she wasn’t really seeing the canvas.

“You ready?” Ophelia asked quietly, watching Merula stand like a statue in front of the painting. Merula didn’t move, but she did hug the paintings even tighter to her chest, as if she could somehow glean some sort of comfort from them. “Okay…” Ophelia said slowly, tearing her gaze away from the catatonic girl. She reached up to tickle the giant pear, but before her hand had reached the canvas, Merula spun around to face her. Her face was no longer stony and resolved. Her eyes were now as large and round as galleons and her jaw was clenched. Ophelia had never seen someone look more like Benjamin Copper than the man himself; Merula Snyde was unmistakably, undeniably, irrefutably scared.

“I’ve never broken a curse before. How do you do it?” Merula asked. Her voice barely above a whisper.

“How do I what?” Ophelia asked, her brow furrowed.

“How do you keep almost dying, and then keep going back. How do you… be brave? How do you face it? What always stops you from just sitting back and letting someone else have a go?”

Ophelia paused, a little stunned. Merula continued to look at her imploringly.

“Merula, are you… afraid?” Ophelia asked, genuinely concerned for her obviously terrified accomplice.

“We’re about to face a giant fucking dragon, of course I’m afraid,” Merula snapped, momentarily shifting back to her usual callous demeanor. Ophelia frowned, and Merula’s irritation melted away, once again replaced by wide-eyed fear.

“We’ve done as much research and prep as we can. You could blind a fly from across the room. In fact, I’ve seen you do it. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, and I’m worried if we postpone too much longer we’ll never do it, or we'll be stopped by the teachers, or it’ll be too late. Besides, we don’t need to beat the dragon. We just need to get past it.” Ophelia could not believe that, after days of wrestling with her nerves and guilt, she was the voice of reason and comfort when they stood on death’s door. Merula didn’t look too convinced.

“And it’s always been worth it?” Merula asked, almost pleadingly. Ophelia paused. She had gotten very little out of curse-breaking at Hogwarts other than a new slew of puzzles, secrets, and lies at every turn. If she were to answer honestly, she wouldn’t be able to say that opening each individual vault was a reward in itself. Everything she worked for was for the endgame, whatever it may hold for her.

“I… I need to find my brother. I need to save him. I need to save Beatrice, and the others.” Ophelia finally managed to say. The words were truths that had always sat passively at the forefront of her mind. It was a truth she had lived by since arriving at Hogwarts, but saying them out loud emboldened her somehow, and she finally knew she was ready to face this vault.

“Okay, but what if he’s not there. Or what if you can’t save him?” Merula asked, her dark magenta eyes darting between Ophelia’s bright blue ones for answers. Ophelia offered her a gentle smile.

“I have to try.”

Merula continued to look at her with the same fearful expression, but it was clear that she was taking her time to seriously process what Ophelia had said. After a moment, she sighed, as though she were disappointed by the conclusion she had come to.

“Meru-“

“-I’m fine.” Merula said abruptly, turning back around to face the portrait, the dragon paintings now held in one arm at her side. She took a deep, steadying breath, and her expression shifted back to one of steely indifference. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was really insistent about using custom fonts for the olivia/duncan notes, but if the images aren't working or you find the handwritten font difficult to read, here's the text---
> 
> Hey Jacob, bet you a galleon I can sink this frogs spleen down Snape’s collar from across the classroom (Duncan)
> 
> Sorry you got in trouble for the frog spleen. Still on for studying later? See if you can get Liv to lend us her notes. (Duncan)
> 
> Jake! I found a great room on the lower east corridor for us to meet in! You guys need to stop meeting in the prefects bathroom, you know you’re not allowed. Have Duncan meet us there at dinner. (Olivia)
> 
> Fireworks arrived! Meet me in the room after potions, maybe we can sneak them into Filch’s office while he’s on patrol. Don’t tell liv. (Duncan)
> 
> Sorry for reporting you to Flitwick about the fireworks. Ill lend you my notes if you promise not to let Duncan copy them. He needs to stop falling asleep in class. (Olivia)
> 
> Is Liv sucking up to you again? You better not forgive her so easily, I’m going to be scrubbing trophies for months. (Duncan)
> 
> That cut from the acromantula looks pretty bad. PLEASE go see Pomfrey before I have to amputate your leg myself (Olivia)
> 
> What do you think your animagus form would be? Bet Duncan’s would be a flobberworm. (Olivia)
> 
> Please ask Liv to stop calling me flobberboy, I don’t understand?? (Duncan)
> 
> Im going to go visit Flobberboy in the hospital wing to give him his homework. He got a really nasty cold from that cursed ice (Olivia)
> 
> Did you figure out how to brew that mandrake root infusion? I thought this was supposed to be a group effort but Liv won’t share her results (Duncan)
> 
> I don’t care what Liv says, I don’t think these "R" pricks know what they’re doing and if were not more careful then were going to get killed (Duncan)
> 
> I think we've almost got this vault figured out, just do what R says (Olivia)
> 
> Got the ingredients for the eurumpet potion. Thanks again for the diversion. If Snape catches me nicking from his storeroom again I’ll be in detention until I graduate. (Duncan)
> 
> I regret telling you the password to the prefects bathroom, Duncan shouldn’t be brewing a potion that dangerous in there and I cant believe you went behind my back to let him in. (Olivia)
> 
> Oh god, I’m so sorry Jacob, its going to be okay. Go hide in the room, I’m going to fix everything. Everything is going to be okay. (Olivia)


	11. Now Or Never Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, only silence can restore  
>  The sense of place I had before  
> Oh, only silence can repair  
> My sense of self I lost somewhere  
> _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey my dudes, i said this wasn't going to be an especially violent fic, but the next 2 chapters are action-heavy and include fight scenes with injuries and swear words. No gore or or like super graphic descriptions, but just a heads up if you're sensitive to that O:

The light inside the large room was far brighter than the rest of the dungeons and basement, and Ophelia and Merula both had to blink several times to adjust to the scene inside. The kitchen was, as Ophelia had anticipated, considerably more crowded than usual. The 4 long tables were piled high with dishes beyond their usual capacity, and the room was swarming with students and house-elves alike. Towards the front of the kitchens near the fireplace Ophelia could see the distinct silhouette of Pitts, but he was gratefully too distracted telling off a student to notice her and Merula entering the room.

“There’s too many witnesses,” Merula murmured from the corner of her mouth, clutching the two dragon portraits to her chest again as she took in the state of the room. “There’s no way we’ll be able to bust open a vault entrance without everyone looking at us.” She looked irritated at herself for not anticipating this, even though she had been the one to suggest they try to breach the kitchens during a feast. Ophelia shook her head.

“No, it’s better this way. If anyone asks, we’re here for detention, just like all the other students here. Hardly anyone paid attention to us entering, and I doubt anyone will notice while we look for the vault entrance. We’ll worry about witnesses after we find the entrance.” Ophelia responded, nodding towards the house-elves and students, who had indeed continued to ignore their presence.

As the two stepped into the kitchen, they quickly became indiscernible amongst the higher-than-usual concentration of students, just as Ophelia had predicted. House-elves weaved between their legs like river water around rocks, otherwise entirely unperturbed. Ophelia grimly remembered from her own detention sentence exactly how busy feasts were in the kitchens, and suspected that professors had been tasked with handing out extra kitchen detentions around this time of year. Merula had seemingly relaxed a little, and had regained her haughty composure. With the paintings still gripped securely at her side, she began to look around the back of the kitchen near the food and flatware storage for a potential vault entrance, leaving Ophelia to do the same at the front of the room near the fire.

“Ophelia!” a familiar voice hissed, and Ophelia spun around to see Jae gesturing for her to join her near the dishwashing station. Pitts was gratefully nowhere in sight, and Ophelia rushed over to join him. The two turned their backs to the rest of the kitchen, pretending to busy themselves with the dishes so as to avoid unwanted attention.

“Are you here for detention? What did you do this time?” Jae asked quietly, grinning slyly while his hands ghosted over the sink filled with dirty plates and sudsy water without actually touching anything.

“I’m here with Merula looking for the entrance to the next cursed vault. We think there’s a dragon in there, and the only logical place to hide one would be pretty deep underground,” Ophelia responded in an undertone as she handed Jae a dishcloth, which he promptly dropped in the sink with the soaking dishes.

“That’s a lot to unpack there…” Jae said slowly, peering over his shoulder to see Merula scouring the dark corners on the other side of the kitchen. “Firstly… I’d like to think this is Merula’s first time being in any kitchen ever,” he said. Ophelia snorted at this, but covered it up with a cough as a house elf came by with a towering pile of more dirty dishes. “Second, you seriously think there’s a dragon in the kitchen?” Jae continued, looking a little confused. He’d spent plenty of time in this kitchen, and would swear on his smuggling career that there definitely wasn’t a dragon in here.

“We think the entrance is in here, we’re not exactly sure where the dragon is. Or if there even is a dragon. We’re definitely hoping there isn’t one.” Ophelia responded. As much as she enjoyed having the chance to catch up with Jae, she was getting a little antsy. She could almost hear Merula’s scathing voice criticizing her for socializing while she did all the hard work.

“Merlin, Ophelia, you never take a break, do you?” Jae chuckled.

“You can join us, if you want? You’ve never seen a cursed vault, and there might be loot in there for you to sell?” Ophelia suggested. She was only sort-of joking, because regardless of how Merula felt about keeping their curse-breaking partnership exclusive, they would be stupid to not recruit any help they could get at this point.

“No offence, but I’d rather actually do the dishes than fight a dragon. I don’t think my crimes have warranted a punishment quite to that extent yet,” Jae said with a laugh. “Besides, you know me, the smartest coward around. You don’t need an extra person to worry about when fighting a dragon, but I’ll bet you could use a lookout up here. I can fend people off from the entrance when you find it, and if you take too long getting back, I’ll go get help.”

“Thanks, Jae, I appreciate it.” Ophelia said. She hadn’t really expected Jae to take her up on her proposal, and his offer really made far more sense. “Guess all that’s left now is to keep looking for that vault.”

“What vault?” came a gruff voice from somewhere behind Ophelia. Ophelia jumped and saw that Pitts had approached the pair while they mimed at the sink, completely unnoticed by either of them. His beady eyes were narrowed in his usual suspicious sneer, but he also seemed genuinely surprised to see Ophelia back in the kitchens. “What is Ophelia Fawley doing in the kitchens? Pitts was not told she would be in detention.” Ophelia hesitated, unsure whether she could tell Pitts the truth. She knew Pitts had been tasked by Dumbledore to look after her while she was in his charge in the kitchens, and over the previous year his gruff tolerance seemed to have developed into genuine regard. However, she wasn’t sure if Pitts had planned to maintain that obligation once she had finished her detention, or if that obligation even extended to curse-breaking exploits. After a moment, she settled on the truth.

“I have reason to believe that there is an entrance to a cursed vault in the kitchens,” Ophelia said firmly, straightening her posture a little in an attempt to exert confidence. Maybe if she acted like she was supposed to be here, possibly even on the orders of Dumbledore himself, Pitts would allow her to carry on. However, Pitts’ skeptical glare seemed to become even more intense.

“Pitts has worked in the Hogwarts kitchens for a long time, and Pitts knows there is no cursed vault in here,” he said, peering up at her. But then his face relaxed a little. “However, Pitts will help Ophelia Fawley if she thinks there is a cursed vault in the kitchens. Pitts wants the Hufflepuff girl Beatrice Haywood and the other students to be safe. Pitts owes his life to Helga Hufflepuff and Hogwarts for giving him the chance to work in the kitchens.” He looked up at Ophelia expectantly for further instructions. Jae looked at Ophelia with his mouth hanging open a little, both impressed at her bluntness and incredulous that Pitts was being so obliging. Ophelia smiled gratefully and walked with Pitts towards the front of the kitchen. Merula was waiting for them in front of the giant fireplace.

“There’s nothing in the storage areas, did you find anything near the sinks?” Merula asked, sounding irritable and impatient.

“No, but Pitts knows the kitchens inside and out. He’d know if there was something off or out of place that we could search for.” Ophelia said, gesturing towards the house elf at her side, who was regarding Merula carefully. Merula shot Pitts a glance of poorly-concealed disgust, but nodded curtly at Ophelia, accepting the help.

“Fine. I’ve covered all four walls, there’s no secret doors or anything, no extra exits to the rest of the castle, and all of the cabinets are just regular cabinets,” Merula said with a huff. “The only way in and out of this kitchen is through the fruit portrait in the hall.”

“Not all four walls,” Pitts said. Merula turned her attention to him, but she still looked irritable. “Can’t have checked all four walls, there’s a wall behind the fire,” Pitts said, pointing a stubby finger towards the roaring fireplace that took up almost the entirety of the front wall of the kitchen. Several soup-filled cauldrons and rotating spits were heating in the hearth, but the fire was too large and bright to even see the wall behind it.

“Well of course I didn’t check that wall, elf, it’s got a fire in front of it,” Merula spat. Pitts looked at her disdainfully before turning to speak to Ophelia instead. Ophelia stepped forward curiously to get a better look at the fire, careful to not get in the way of the house-elves tending to the cauldrons. The fire blasted hot air in her face as she approached, and the flames were so bright that it hurt to stare at them for too long.

“Does the fire ever go out, Pitts?” Ophelia asked, kneeling on the hard stone floor, her eyes never tearing away from the fire.

“The fire never goes out, Pitts makes sure of that. There has been fire in the fireplace since before Pitts arrived at Hogwarts,” Pitts replied with an air of pride at his commitment to this kitchen. Ophelia reached a hand out towards the hearth as if possessed by some external force, and a spurt of flame licked at her fingers, confirming that it was definitely very real and very hot fire. She yelped and fell back a little, and Merula laughed openly at her pain.

“I’m not going to lie and say that wasn’t really funny, Fawley, but you really must be the stupidest Ravenclaw in history to just stick your hand in a fire.” Merula jeered, almost doubling over with mirth. Ophelia rolled her eyes at the mockery, but sighed a little in disappointment.

“I just thought, Dragon, dragonfire, fireplace, maybe there was a connection,” Ophelia pondered out loud, nursing her fingers. The burn was minimal, and the pain was already starting to fade.

“Dragon?” Pitts said, his head swiveling between the fireplace, Ophelia on the ground, and Merula, who was still laughing.

“There might be a dragon in the vault,” Ophelia murmured, but her attention was still fixated on the fire, the gears in her head whirring for a new idea. Pitts looked openly shocked, and looked back up to Merula for confirmation. Merula nodded, still smiling gleefully at Ophelia’s failed attempt to touch the fire. Ophelia suddenly turned, still seated on the ground, a hand outstretched towards Merula.

“Hand me a painting,” she said, her tone suggesting this was not up for debate or argument. Merula looked confused, but handed Ophelia the painting of the unmoving dragon, it’s wings open mid-flight. Ophelia studied it, looking for some sort of clue. The wings had always seemed to flutter a little bit in flicking light, but in such close proximity to the fire, the wings had started to flap just enough to be undeniable. Before Merula could protest, she pushed half of the painting deep into the fire, keeping her hand a safe distance away.

“What the FUCK are you doing, Fawley?!” Merula cried, running forward to stop Ophelia from actively destroying their key to the next vault. Ophelia stopped her from coming any closer with her free arm and pointed to the painting that was now immersed in the fireplace. The flames were lapping up the side of the frame and across the oil-painted canvas, but the portrait remained entirely undamaged. In fact, now that it was completely engulfed in the fire, the beating of the dragon’s wings was unmistakable. The portrait was fully animated.

Merula’s mouth fell open in shock, her eyes wide and taking in the dragon painting. Ophelia pushed her arm even further into the fire, and this time, she couldn’t feel the heat on her hand, and then her arm, as she pushed it further and further into the fireplace. Like it had with the painting, the fire came up around the sides of her arm, but her skin and clothes suffered no damage. She withdrew the painting and looked it over, confirming that it was indeed unburned and intact. The beating of the wings slowed down and became still once more, as static as the day Ophelia had found it in the forest vault. Merula’s surprise turned to a smirk, and with the sleeping dragon clutched to her chest, she ran between two large cauldrons and into roaring fire, disappearing out of sight behind the bright flames. Several surrounding house-elves gasped in shock and horror as she disappeared, but a second later a triumphant shout rang from a few feet away behind the flames.

“Fawley, back here, I’ve found the entrance, I’m sure of it!” Merula called, her voice a little muffled by the roar and crackle of the fireplace. “The fire can’t hurt you when you have the painting, come on!” Ophelia drew herself to her feet excitedly, but before she could follow Merula at full speed, she felt a tug at the hem of her shirt. She looked down to see Pitts looking up at her, a fistful of clothing stopping her from running into the fire. He looked determined.

“Pitts is coming with. Pitts promised Albus Dumbledore he would take care of Ophelia Fawley. Pitts will help protect the kitchens and Hogwarts. Pitts will help Ophelia Fawley and the rude Slytherin.” He grabbed onto the a corner of the dragon painting Ophelia was still holding and nodded firmly, his eyes moving from Ophelia to look into the fire. Ophelia smiled, overwhelmed with fondness for the grumpy elf, and together they walked briskly through the flames with the dragon portrait held between them.

The pair found themselves next to Merula on the other side over the flames, in a narrow space between the fire and the back wall. Although the fire still burned heartily behind them, the space was not much warmer than the rest of the kitchen, and there were no fumes or smoke to speak of. The kitchen itself was entirely obscured beyond the flames, and Ophelia was sure she, Merula, and Pitts were entirely invisible to the occupants of the kitchen. The wall itself was blackened from countless decades, and perhaps centuries, of ash and cinders. However, at eye level there was a perfectly rectangular space on the wall where the soot had not affected the stone. Without checking, Ophelia would bet the contents of her Gringotts account that the painting in her hand would align over this clean spot perfectly.

“There’s only one spot,” Merula said, her brow furrowed.

“One must get us in, and the other gets us out, so we’re not stuck in there,” Ophelia said looking down at her own painting. The dragon was once again moving at full speed, it’s powerful wings beating while it hovered in space, its long, spiked tail swinging menacingly below it. Its eyes, which had previously been dark and lifeless, now glinted menacingly, as if she were looking into the face of a real dragon right in front of her. She placed it on the wall, where it adhered instantly, drawn in like a magnet. Gratefully, the fire continued to leave her and Pitts unharmed once the painting had left her hands. Ophelia turned to Merula wordlessly, who looked excited for the first time that evening. Ophelia then turned and looked down at Pitts, who took a hold of her wrist and nodded with the same firm resolve. Together, Ophelia and Merula reached out a forefinger to the painting and touching it in unison.

There was a swirl of color and a very uncomfortable sensation as the 3 were swept off their feet and flung through space. The roaring of the fireplace was indistinguishable from the roaring of the whirlwind around them.

Then everything was still, quiet, and completely, utterly dark.

Ophelia lay still, not entirely sure of what had happened and where she had ended up. She and Merula had previously established the paintings were portkeys that would in theory take them somewhere below the castle, but Ophelia was so disoriented from the travel that she wasn’t even sure if she was physically there. A sudden quick squeeze at her right arm confirmed that Pitts was still with her, and a sudden hard kick in her left shin confirmed that Merula was as well. Ophelia yelped quietly in pain, and was quickly shushed by Merula. With a silent incantation, Merula lit the tip of her wand, bathing the fallen trio in soft light. Ophelia followed suit, pulling Pitts up to his feet as she did. He quickly released her hand and stepped back, looking around at the large dark space they found themselves in. The light of Merula and Ophelia’s wand illuminated each other and a few feet around them, but it was otherwise impossible to discern the depth or height of the room they were in.

“Where’s the dragon?” Merula asked in a low whisper, whipping her head around in case it tried to attack them from the shadows.

“Count your blessings,” Ophelia responded in an equally quiet voice, pointing her light down at her feet. Whatever room they were in was made of very old stone. The floor was also littered with several large chunks of shattered architectural elements in varying sizes, presumably from this hypothetical dragon thrashing around in a confined space. Ophelia assumed they were in a confined space, at least, if they were so far underground. The thought of being trapped in a room so deep under the castle and with no tunnels or exits made her feel a little claustrophobic for a second, but she forced the feeling down. Other than the floor and the chunks of stone, it was otherwise impossible to discern any other elements of their new location. The wand light flashed on the painting Merula was holding, and Ophelia saw that, like the flying dragon they had mounted on the wall in the kitchen, this one was also moving. Ophelia gestured for Merula to hold it up so they could examine it properly, to which Merula wordlessly obliged. The dragon was still sleeping, its head tucked under its wing, but its huge body was visibly rising and falling deeply with every breath it took.

Then the dragon in the painting stirred. Its head emerged from under the wing and it shook itself from its lethargy, the head turning slightly as it took in its surroundings. Then it suddenly looked directly up at the pair as though it could see them, and it bared its long, sharp teeth menacingly and made a low but audible growling noise.

“Did the painting just growl?” Merula asked, peering at the angry dragon, who continued to look at the two while it moved itself into an offensive stance. "The other painting didn't make any noise."

The growl was heard again, but this time it definitely was not from within the painting. It was from somewhere in the darkness. In the distance beyond the scope of their wand light, an orange dot appeared in the blackness and began to grow.

“Shit,” whispered Ophelia. She instinctively grabbed Pitts and Merula by the wrists, running perpendicular to the source of the growing orange light. A second later, a huge stream of dragon fire shot past them, missing them by only a few feet, followed by a deafening roar that reverberated around the room. “Fire blasts at the range, it has to be a horntail we’re dealing with,” Ophelia called breathlessly, remembering what Charlie had told her. That conversation felt like it had happened years ago.

“No shit, Fawley, it was right there on the paintings!” Merula cried, detangling herself from Ophelia as another orange ball began to form in the darkness, this time closer and accompanied by the sound of several tons of flesh and sharp talons moving across stone. “Shit where’s the painting,” Merula said quickly, looking back at the spot where they had just escaped the attack of dragonfire. The limited scope of their wand light showed that the painting had been dropped on the floor in their haste, but before Merula could move to reclaim it, another jet of flame shot in their direction. Merula and Ophelia leapt out of the way again, tripping on a large chunk of fallen stone and landing hard on the floor several feet away, but Pitts’ short legs didn’t allow him to move as fast. Ophelia turned in horror as the flames threatened to consume him, but the split second before the fire reached them, Pitts disapparated with a loud crack.

Merula and Ophelia were less lucky, and the flames flew over them just a little too close for comfort. There was a distinct smell of burning hair and clothes. Suddenly a sharp sting and intense pain came at the base of Ophelia’s neck and down between her shoulder blades to her back, and Ophelia cried out, rolling over on her back to try to put herself out. Merula screamed and shot Ophelia in the back of the head with a harsh jet of water before directing the charm at her own pants, which were ablaze with angry orange flames. Ophelia’s hand flew up to her waterlogged hair, or rather, what was left of it. It felt brittle and crisp to the touch, and much of it fell away in her fingers. Her back still felt incredibly sore, and she was sure it was seriously burned. Merula had successfully extinguished her pants, but a sizeable hole had seared through it, exposing a large red patch of skin that would likely develop into a nasty burn. The dragon roared again, this time much closer.

Ophelia and Merula scrambled to their feet and stood back to back, wands outstretched while they pivoted slowly, looking out for where the dragon was approaching from. With the echoes of the spacious vault, it was impossible to tell where the heavy steps and roars were emanating from. Merula suddenly screamed again, and Ophelia whipped around.

Not 10 feet in front of them was the face of a very angry, very awake, Hungarian Horntail, looking down on them with its teeth bared and fire brewing again in the back of its throat. It was the largest, most terrifying thing Ophelia had ever seen. The books, the conversations with her friends, the lectures in class, the warnings of history, nothing could have prepared her for this beast. She found herself paralyzed in fear, unable to even scream.

Before Ophelia could even think to react, Merula had brandished her wand and shot a particularly well-aimed conjunctivitis curse at the dragon's face. From their proximity, the curse hit the dragon true in the eye. The eye rapidly swelled up with painful-looking cysts, effectively half-blinding and distracting the dragon. It roared in agony and swung away from them, it’s jet of fire blasting upwards to the ceiling. In the brief moment of illumination, Ophelia could see that the room was about 50 feet tall, with the furthest flames just reaching the stone-clad ceiling.

The dragon continued to swing its head, twisting its whole body. For a second, Merula looked incredibly proud at herself for being able to land a spell at such a lucky vantage point, but then the rest of the dragon swung around, and she was swept clear off her feet by the dragon’s spiked tail. Ophelia ducked, but saw as Merula flew several feet into the air and landed out of sight with a heavy thud and a sickening crunch.

“MERULA!” Ophelia cried, her scream mixing with the dragon’s continued roaring. There was no answer from Merula. Ophelia ran in the direction of where she heard Merula make contact with the hard ground, but nearly collided headlong into the dragon’s tail, which had swung back around for a second attack. Just feet before it was about to make contact with Ophelia’s face, there was a flash of bright blue light, and the dragon was suddenly moving at a fraction of the speed, as though trapped in slow motion. Completely confused but still terrified and in escape mode, Ophelia ducked under the tail and ran as far away as she could, unsure of whether she was moving towards the edge or the center of the room. By the light of her wand, she knew she was getting further away from the dragon, but still had no idea where Merula was.

Ophelia’s wand suddenly flew out of her hand, expelled by an unseen disarming charm. The light immediately went out, and Ophelia heard her wand clatter on the floor some feet away. Ophelia dropped to her hands and knees and began crawling across the floor, blindly reaching out for her wand in the darkness.

“Shit, fuck, LUMOS!” Ophelia called out desperately. To her surprise and immense relief, the tip of her wand illuminated just a little bit and then died again like an old flashlight, briefly indicating its location several feet to her right. Ophelia scampered across the floor and managed to grab it by the handle. She heard footsteps approaching in the dark, moving and pausing while she kneeled on the floor, frozen in fear. She pulled herself to her feet as quietly as she could, knowing that casting light again would give her position away to whatever new, unknown threat had joined her in the darkness.

Now that the dragon had been largely incapacitated and her wand still unlit, the room was drenched in inky blackness again. Ophelia blinked rapidly, desperately willing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Several yards away, from the corner of her periphery, Ophelia caught sight of a pale blue glow, and she spun quickly in case it was another adversary. Something, someone, in the room, heard her movement, and the footsteps resumed again, faster this time. However, as Ophelia stared at the source of the glowing, she was able to discern its shape as the geometrical monolith that had marked the center of every previous vault she had entered. Unlike its opaque predecessors, this one seemed more like a translucent crystal, with a glow emanating from inside.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Ophelia began to sprint full-tilt towards the vault’s central pillar, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t trip over any stray stone chunks littered around the room, or her own feet for that matter. It might have been Ophelia’s imagination, but something at the back of her mind seemed to become alert at the proximity to this glowing pillar. It was a similar sensation to when she could hear a mysterious voice in her head when she opened the first vaults. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that her brother was in there. _Jacob was in there._

A jet of red light flew past Ophelia’s head, missing her by inches as she continued to run towards the center of the cursed vault. Then another, and another. Ophelia was so close, just a few more steps and she would be able to reach out and-

She was knocked off her feet by a flippendo charm, sending her off course to the side by several feet and landing hard on her back against a sizeable chunk of fallen clerestory. She was careful to keep a firm grip on her wand and twist in such a way that it wouldn’t be damaged by her fall. Fortunately, her wand remained intact and secure in her fist, but the burn on her back flared up agonizingly on impact with the jagged rock. Ophelia twisted painfully, but before she could right herself, she was bound by conjured ropes, pushing her back against the broken stone again. The silent caster grew closer, but was otherwise obscured by the darkness of the room. Ophelia looked up in horror as she was finally able to see the figure approaching her, illuminated by the soft blue glow of the nearby pillar. Unmistakable red robes came into view.

“Hello, Ophelia Fawley,” an unfamiliar voice came from under the robe. A female voice. Two hands reached up and flipped back the hood, revealing olive skin, jet black hair, and pale eyes. The woman looked down at Ophelia contemplatively, her wand outstretched and pointed at Ophelia’s bound chest.

Ophelia’s eyes widened in recognition, and her constricted breath caught in her throat as she gasped out, “… Olivia Green?”

The witch’s face twisted into a wicked smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D


	12. In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And there's a thin line between love and crime  
>  And in this situation  
> A thin line between love and crime and collaboration_

Olivia had evolved from the shy teenager Ophelia had seen in Jacob’s photos. Her face was more hollow, her hair shorter and more utilitarian, and her glasses were gone. Towering over Ophelia in her sweeping red robes, her pale gray eyes flashing white in the glow of the pillar, she looked almost unrecognizable from the Olivia that Jacob used to know. She stopped in front of Ophelia and looked to their right, where the center of the vault stood glowing several feet away. Her gaze paused on the glowing monolith, and she frowned a little, but then she turned her attention back to Ophelia.

“The teachers told you about me then?” Olivia asked, her wand still pointed at Ophelia.

“The ghosts did, and I found some of Jacob’s photos. I recognized you,” Ophelia said, still struggling to draw full breaths under the tight ropes.

“Photos, hm?” Olivia said, looking thoughtful for a moment. “I never pegged Jacob as the sentimental type to keep photos.” Ophelia kept quiet at this, looking up at the red-robed witch. Olivia might have been a friend before, but she certainly wasn’t one now. Any information Ophelia had that Olivia didn’t was a potential tool against her. “To be fair to him, he definitely talked about you all the time. Little Ophie, Little Pia, Little Pip. He had so many names for you. He thought he was going to protect you, and you’ve gone and thrown yourself at danger anyways…” she mused, now pacing slowly back and forth in front of Ophelia, keeping a steady eye between her and the glowing pillar. Ophelia wasn’t sure what was happening at all. Was Olivia waiting for something? Surely the sluggish dragon was still somewhere in the room, posing an eventual but definite threat?

“So you’re with R now?” Ophelia asked, trying to wiggle free from the bonds and subtly as she could. Her wand had fallen a few inches out of her reach, and the conjured ropes remained steadfast and tight.

“I was always with R. So was Duncan, so was Jacob. I was just the last one standing. I won,” she said, her previously emotionless voice now starting to brim with pride.

“And you’re the one who threatened to kill me and my friends?” Ophelia growled. It was very difficult to look or sound imposing in her position, but if this woman was in any way responsible for the threat, possession, or injury of her friends, Ophelia would make sure that she paid for it.

“R threatened to kill you and your friends. I am an agent of R, sometimes a messenger, but R is so much bigger and more powerful than you could dream of.” Olivia replied, the corners of her mouth twisting into a small smile again. “If R thought your friends needed to be… removed… I provided any necessary actions they asked of me.”

“What do you mean you’re the last one? Where’s Jacob? Is he dead?” Ophelia asked, suddenly struck with panic. There was no way she had come so far and was now so close for Jacob to be dead all this time. She wiggled again against her bindings, and Olivia regarded her with a slight frown until Ophelia gave up, panting a little from the exerted effort.

“I don’t know where Jacob is,” Olivia said, her frown deepening, and despite everything, Ophelia knew Olivia was being sincere. “For a while there, it looked like Jacob was going to win R’s recruitment, but he threw it away…” Ophelia looked up at her with a look of confusion, and Olivia, clearly relishing in having an attentive audience, continued. “I went missing shortly after Duncan’s tragically untimely death. An accident, mind you, but R said only one of us would be permitted to join, and Duncan’s death only improved my odds.”

“You killed Duncan.” Ophelia breathed, her eyes wide. Olivia whipped her wand at Ophelia, and Ophelia felt a sharp pain across her cheek, followed by the warm wetness of seeping blood.

“Duncan killed himself. I warned him the potion was dangerous, and he and Jacob were reckless to try to brew it in the bathroom, especially after I told them not to. I gave Duncan the wrong dose, I thought a small explosion would drive him from the bathroom and teach him a lesson, but potions are a volatile magic, and…” she paused, and her eyes looked past Ophelia in the darkness beyond. “I regret it, and it’s haunted me ever since, but it was a necessary sacrifice that brought me to where I am today.”

“But you said Jacob was going to win R’s recruitment, what happened to him? What happened to you?” Ophelia asked, burning with curiosity. Every part of her body ached from cuts, burns, and constant contact against the stone ground, but talking was distracting Olivia. Maybe if she kept it going long enough, Jae or Pitts would send for reinforcement. Olivia frowned again a little at this question, but she took a deep breath and continued.

“From the start, Jacob was R’s favorite. They singled him out as the leader, among us, but the offer had always been available to all three of us, to whoever proved their worth and came out on top. We all worked together, but… Jacob and Duncan were friends, and I was surplus,” Olivia said with an overarching tone of resentment. “I was always the extra, even with Jacob in my own house. Always excluded, left out of the boys club on their curse breaking adventures. ‘Liv, can you get us into the prefects bathroom? Liv, can I borrow your notes? Liv, can you steal these ingredients? The teachers won’t suspect a prefect.’ Jacob and Duncan said we were being used by R, but it was them who was using me.” Her pale eyes flashed white again. “After Duncan died, I wanted make everything right with Jacob so he wouldn’t hate me for it. I thought if I opened the next vault on my own, maybe R would recruit both of us. It was a stupid endeavor. I accessed the vault improperly without the correct keys, tried to force it to open without the necessary sacrifices, and it… trapped me. I remember, for 2 years, in that prism, with nothing but my consciousness and my willpower. I couldn’t sleep, eat, move, struggle, just… thinking…awake the entire time…” Olivia glanced over at the vault disdainfully. “Then, suddenly, it spat me out. I was just outside the grounds, at the edge of Hogsmeade. R found me almost immediately, told me Jacob was gone and I was the only one left. I was inducted immediately, and for the first time, I was properly appreciated for my skills and power. That was 5 years ago.”

“That doesn’t make sense, you said this happened 5 years ago, Jacob’s been gone for 7,” Ophelia said.

“What do you think he’s been doing for 7 years? He’s been collecting the clues again, gathering everything you would need to follow in his footsteps. He placed the sweater and dragon portrait in the forest, then the forest map and broken arrow in the library, and the wand and notebook in the ice vault.”

“If R had Jacob and Duncan and you to open the vaults, and you knew how to get into them, why did I still have to? Why didn’t you open them yourself?” Why was I involved at all?” Ophelia asked. She knew she was pushing her luck asking so many questions, but Olivia smirked.

“The vaults you know are just decoys, a puzzle. The real vault is the final vault, the one I am going to find to bring the ultimate power to R. However, in order to get to that vault, I need to break this vault… I need you. See, before, I thought I could jump the gun, open the vaults out of order to get ahead, but all I had to do was follow Jacob’s footsteps. When Jacob opened the intended first vault in the correct order, he created a blood imprint. Only his bloodline could open the vaults after that. You have always been the only one who could ever continue his work. Maybe he knew this when he placed the clues in the vaults, maybe he didn’t. After I was trapped, Jacob went back to every vault and put clues in there for you to continue his work, to bring down R. Jacob was always weak, a coward who wanted to quit when things got too scary. He didn’t have the power, or the potential to achieve what I did. When I tried to access the vaults in the correct order, they didn’t open for me, but they did respond to my presence. By tampering with the vaults, I triggered the curses, and had to wait for you to break the curse, which only you could do, before moving onto the next. I realized quickly that you were fairly competent at what you did, and all I had to do was sit back and wait for the opportune moment.” Olivia looked again at the column. “Tonight was simply a matter of disillusioning myself, entering the kitchen, and using the active portkey you left behind to follow you. The dragon was a nice touch, but unnecessary for the work we have to do, so I figured it was best to immobilize it as soon as possible. Shame about your friend though.”

“Why are you waiting then, if all you need is my touch to open the vault?” Ophelia asked. She regretted it once she did, knowing that stalling was possibly her only option of getting out alive. Her stomach twisted at the implication that Merula might not. Olivia shot her a cold glare.

“It’s not your touch that opens it, but you are the only one who can. The vaults respond to symbolic sacrifices, to prove your dedication to the search of ultimate power. If you make the sacrifices necessary to proceed, you will be rewarded beyond measure in the final vault. The wand was a sacrifice of magic, the arrow was a sacrifice of community, but I can’t figure out what this vault needs… I fear if I simply throw you at the vault, it’ll simply absorb you like it did me, and who knows how that’ll affect my chances of accessing the 5th and final vault. Whatever is in this vault, I need it, and I can’t risk losing you as long as we’ve lost Jacob. R wouldn’t be too happy about that. I’m keeping you here while I think.” Ophelia let out a small sigh of relief, which Olivia thankfully missed while she continued to regard the vault. Olivia wasn’t setting out to kill Ophelia yet, because she potentially needed her in some capacity to continue with her quest, but neither of them could stay down here forever, and every passing minute was diminishing Ophelia’s hope that help would come for her.

“Ophelia,” a voice said, and for a split second Ophelia felt as though her mind was being filled by an ever-expanding cloud of silvery fog. She quickly attempted to clear it using the techniques she had developed in Snape’s lessons, but it actively resisted. She panicked, worried that maybe she was being possessed by the imperius curse, or was losing herself in the presence of the vault. The fog in her mind swirled and grew more fervent, as if it was trying to attract her attention, which Ophelia was now giving fully.

“Ophelia, did you bring the elf? You need the elf.” Ophelia tried very hard not to jump in surprise as the mysterious voice that had addressed her at the previous vaults filled her head again, ringing in her ears despite the lack of real auditory input. Olivia was talking, but Ophelia was finding it hard to focus on everything at once. The fog in her head was so distracting that it felt as though it was obscuring her vision in real life.

“-but there wasn’t anything in that vault to open this one-” Olivia was thinking out loud, clearly caught up in her own stream of consciousness to notice that Ophelia was battling hers.

“Ophelia! Where’s the elf? The sweater was a dead giveaway! Grab your wand! Don’t let her make you touch the vault! Ophelia!”

“-it’s so unlike Jacob to be inconsistent, but you clearly can’t hold a candle to his intellect, so there’s no way he left a hint that you could solve but I couldn’t-”

“OPHELIA! Liv is DANGEROUS! If you don’t have the elf then grab your wand and RUN TO THE PORTRAIT! It’s the only way out-”

“-when I open that 5th vault-“

“OPHELIA!!”

“-maybe you know something you’re not telling me-”

“PIP! GET OUT OF THERE-”

“-if that’s the case, I do have means of loosening your tongue-“

“OPHELIA CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“SHUT UP!” Ophelia screamed, her voice echoing around the room and reverberating twofold inside her own clouded mind. Immediately the fog seemed to lift, and Ophelia was able to clearly see Olivia looking down at her in shock and disgust.

“Excuse me?” Olivia asked, an eyebrow arched, and wand raised to strike again.

“Too… much… talking…” Ophelia panted. She felt as though she had just sprinted a mile, her energy physically and mentally drained after trying to actively focus on her surroundings, pay attention to the voice of the vault, and try to process too much input at once.

“Ohh, and I thought we were having such a lovely chat,” Olivia cooed, but her voice was laced with malice. She whipped her wand again, cutting loose the conjured robes that bound Ophelia, but also cutting deeply into her left arm. Ophelia felt it begin to bleed freely, but was grateful that it was still fully operable. Ophelia reached for her wand, but missed it in her hurry to get on her feet. She immediately felt dizzy from the pain in her body and from standing up too quickly. The entire room was spinning.

“OPHELIA, GRAB YOUR WAND!”

“I KNOW, SHUT UP I CAN HEAR YOU!” Ophelia screamed again, clutching at her head. She had such a headache now, and her vision was starting to blur again.

“If you’re tired of me talking, maybe you can have a go for a bit,” Olivia said in an icy tone, raising her wand again. “CRUCI-“

“YOUR WAND, OPHELIA!”

“MY WAND!” Ophelia screamed hysterically in response, lunging for her wand on the ground and avoiding Olivia’s torturing curse. She landed on several jagged rocks, but quickly rolled over and jumped to her feet, darting around the back of the pillar so that it stood between her and Olivia. Ophelia had yet to have a proper high-stakes duel in dueling club, but the only thing she could think of now was Professor Dordee’s advice to get out alive. Everything else was blinding white fog.

“Running away and hiding, just like your brother. I wouldn’t have expected anything better from you, the lesser Fawley” Olivia jeered, rounding the column. Ophelia tried to sidestep out of her range, but stumbled on more rocks and toppled over, her leg twisting painfully as she went. As she fell, she tried to shoot a stunning spell at Olivia, but Olivia wordlessly blocked it. Ophelia righted herself, her aching body screaming in protest, and ran sideways again, shooting every offensive spell in her arsenal. Although Ophelia had managed to master nonverbal spell slinging, Olivia blocked each spell effortlessly, sending the jinxes ricocheting across the room in every direction.

“GET TO THE PORTRAIT!” Every time Ophelia heard the voice, which she was sure was trying to be helpful, if not very bossy, her head grew clouded and heavy again. It was becoming a struggle to stand up straight and not tumble sideways every time the extraneous voice sounded throughout her mind.

Ophelia readied her wand for another offence, but instead of firing another blasting jinx, she attempted the legilimens charm, desperately trying to get the upper hand on an opponent with a much clearer head. To her surprise, she felt herself be mentally and physically repulsed. She fell backwards over even more rocks as Olivia loomed over her. Aside from the pain of impact on the rocks on the floor, Ophelia’s head felt as though it had been knocked with a pipe. She retched, feeling genuinely ill from the force with which she had been expelled from Olivia’s mind.

“Tricky girl, just like Jacob in so many ways. I studied occlumency religiously after all that time spent with your brother trying to get inside my head, unwelcomed. Nosy bastard.” She swept her wand again, and Ophelia was blasted back several feet. Something snapped, and she felt an incredible, blinding pain in her ankle. A slight jostle confirmed it couldn’t be walked on, and she retched again. Her stomach was still empty after a day of hiding away from her loved ones instead of eating. Tears of pain were streaming down her face, her vision further blurred. She just wanted to sleep, she wanted this to be over. She missed her friends. She missed Rowan, and Tulip, and Penny. She missed Ben and Andre, she missed Barnaby and Charlie and Tonks and Jae. She missed Merula. She was going to die a hundred feet under the castle and no one was ever going to find her.

“CRUCIO!” Olivia shouted, and all the overwhelming emotions Ophelia was feeling were suddenly replaced by a white-hot agony. The pain in her ankle was suddenly negligible compared the hundreds of invisible knives stabbing into every inch of her body, her bones and muscles convulsing and twisting over the rocks as torture took over. She heard a crack, and wondered if her bones had broken themselves in protest. And then it was gone.

“HOW DO I GET INSIDE THE VAULT?” Olivia screamed, raising her wand again. Ophelia was too exhausted to flinch, and barely conscious enough to push words out of her mouth. “WHAT DID JACOB TELL YOU?” All of her polite conversational attitude had evaporated, her patience past its limits. Olivia had waited too long and worked too hard to be held back and sassed by a cocky, underpowered teenager. She wasn’t going to lose again like she once did to Jacob.

“I… I don’t know… It’s a dead… end…” Ophelia murmured. The white hot knives came back for several more seconds, and Ophelia screamed in wretched agony.

“Jacob wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave you with a dead end, he left you a clue, and if you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to have to break open your mind to find it!” Olivia cried.

“I… can’t open... the vault.” Ophelia coughed up some blood.

As if in response to this, the pillar at the center of the room began to glow brighter, slowly filling the surrounding room with the pale blue light, illuminating every corner. A dozen yards away the dragon was still half turned, its movements so slow it was difficult to tell if it was moving at all. For the first time, Ophelia was able to see the ceiling, which used to boast an incredible display of ribbed vaults and arches high overhead. Most of the architecture had been knocked down by the dragon over the centuries. Ophelia caught a glimpse at her own body, which was bruised, broken, burned, and blooded to an extent that almost made her vomit again.

And there, next to the monolith that was glowing like a blue sun, was Pitts, one stubby arm outstretched with a hand resting on the side of the pillar. His beady eyes were wide with awe and fear at what his touch was doing. Ophelia made fleeting eye contact with him, and his expression became one of horror at the sight of her condition. Olivia turned and looked gleefully at the center of vault, but hesitated in confusion at the sight of the house-elf, not entirely able to comprehend the correlation. A deafening thump indicated that the dragon had collapsed, its slumber allowed to continue now that the curse had been lifted. Olivia’s attention spun over to where the dragon was and then back to the vault, practically giddy with excitement. Ophelia took the moment of distraction to shoot a stunning charm at Olivia, but her power was drained and her aim was absolutely abysmal, shooting several feet past Olivia’s arm. Olivia turned back to Ophelia, furious, and no longer taking prisoners. Ophelia tried to crab-crawl backwards, but she wasn’t able to make it very far before her ankle gave out again. Olivia walked towards her, her back to the open vault. It would still be there when she was finished with Ophelia. She raised her wand again in what would surely be Ophelia’s final view, but there was an abrupt muted _thunk_ , and Olivia collapsed sideways, unconscious.

A figure stood behind where Olivia had been, with only its silhouette visible against the now blindingly white light emanating from the vault. A heavy-looking rock dropped from the figure’s hands and landed on the floor with a loud crack of stone-on-stone. Then the figure also fell sideways, dropping lifelessly like a ragdoll as Olivia had done. The room was silent, Ophelia was blinded by the light, the fog, and the pain. She gently leaned back against the floor, lying spread eagle in a pile of rubble stained with her blood. The light was growing dimmer now. Everything was growing dimmer. Then Ophelia blacked out.


	13. The Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I never wanted to be better than my friends  
>  I just wanted to prove wrong the people in my head  
> The ones who told me I'd be better of dead  
> The ones who told me that I would never win_

Ophelia woke up screaming. For a split second, she thought she might still be in the vault, but as she regained consciousness she realized she was on a soft bed. A half-drawn curtain around her was letting a beam of moonlight illuminate her body, which was wrapped copiously in bandages. Several hurried footsteps sounded and the curtain was torn back, revealing the concerned faces of Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, and Madam Rakepick. Ophelia continued to hyperventilate, tears streaming down her face while Madam Pomfrey hurried off to a nearby medicine cabinet. She returned quickly with a blue potion, which she poured down Ophelia’s mouth. Ophelia didn’t resist the drink, but coughed and sputtered as the drink collided with her hysterical sobs. After a moment, her cries diminished, and she quieted, looking up at the 3 adults around her.

“What happened?” Ophelia gasped, looking fervently around her. She was definitely in the hospital wing, but it was far too dark to tell much else. She twisted her body to try to get a better look beyond her curtain, but hissed in pain when the large burn on her back protested the movement.

“We ought to be asking you that,” Dumbledore said. His tone was polite, but his expression was grave. Ophelia gulped under his pensive stare.

“We know she’s fine, but she needs rest! You can talk to her in the morning!” Madam Pomfrey said fussily, trying to shoo Dumbledore and Rakepick out of the way so she could close the curtains again.

“Where’s Merula?” Ophelia asked frantically, trying to pull the curtains back open. Now that she was in a much clearer headspace, the events of the evening were coming back to her. She wasn’t even entirely sure if it even was the same evening, to be entirely honest. A clock over the door indicated that it was 2 in the morning, but Ophelia had no idea how long she had been gone for before she lost consciousness, and even less idea how long it had been before she was brought back topside. Professor Dumbledore held up a hand to halt Madam Pomfrey from closing Ophelia off, and Madam Pomfrey stepped back begrudgingly before she retreated into her office.

“Miss Snyde is here, recuperating along with you,” Professor Dumbledore said, pulling the curtain back a little more and gesturing to the bed opposite Ophelia. Ophelia could see a figure under the covers, unconscious but definitely breathing. “She has yet to awaken, but she suffered considerably less severe injuries than you did, and Madam Pomfrey expects her to make a full recovery.”

“How did we escape? I… I blacked out?” Ophelia pressed. Although the calming draught that Madam Pomfrey had force-fed her had effectively managed her shock and hysterics, she was still scared and confused. Professor Dumbledore shushed her calmingly and patted her hand before stepping aside to reveal Pitts standing behind him. Pitts waddled forward and stood next to Ophelia’s bed, although his eyes barely came above the level of the mattress.

“Pitts took care of Ophelia Fawley for Albus Dumbledore. He found the Slytherin in the vault in the dark, and brought everyone back to the kitchens. But Pitts is afraid he could not find the dragon painting to bring you back, so he had to apparate. When Pitts returned to the kitchen, Jae Kim had brought Albus Dumbledore to the kitchens to help because Ophelia Fawley had been gone for too long.” Pitts was looking up at her as he recounted this, but his usual sneer had been replaced by a look of genuine relief that Ophelia was alive and awake.

“Thank you for your help, Pitts, you did incredibly well. You should return to the kitchens, I’m sure the other elves are waiting for further instructions from you,” Dumbledore said kindly to the house elf. Pitts looked up to him and nodded sharply before disapparating with a loud crack. Dumbledore turned his attention back to Ophelia and continued. “When Mr. Kim alerted me to the fact that you had, against all warnings and instructions to the contrary, gone into a cursed vault and had failed to return, I of course sent for reinforcements,” Dumbledore said, gesturing towards Madam Rakepick. “However, the fact that the students previously trapped in the portraits were now released was also a strong indication that you had gone against my wishes and accessed the cursed vault.” Professor Dumbledore now pulled the curtain back all the way to reveal that nearly every other bed in the hospital wing was occupied by the students that had been trapped in paintings. In the far corner, Ophelia saw Beatrice’s bed. Or at least, she could safely assume it was Beatrice’s, as Penny was sitting next to it, sleeping soundly with her head in her arms at the foot of the bed. Ophelia knew she was supposed to be feeling guilty at Professor Dumbledore’s words, but Dumbledore didn’t really seem angry, and the sight of the room filled with saved students meant that Ophelia’s work had been worth it.

“Are they okay?” Ophelia asked, looking up at Professor Dumbledore after taking in the room of recovered students. For the first time, Dumbledore’s mouth twitched upwards in a small smile.

“I am happy to say that they will all be fine. Some may need a little extra time to reorient their depth perception, but every trapped student has been accounted for.” Dumbledore said in a calming voice, nodding serenely.

“Just in time, too. Who knows much longer these students had in those portraits before they started suffering some real irreparable damage. Id’ve given them until the end of the year, if that.” Rakepick added with a smirk, chiming into the conversation for the first time. Ophelia was personally surprised that she had managed to keep her opinion to herself for as long as she had. Dumbledore held up a hand to silence her, and she stepped back again, but she was still smiling with her usual air of smugness, and maybe even a hint of pride.

“Now, Miss Fawley, we come to the matter of punishment for your actions tonight,” Dumbledore said. Ophelia grimaced. To her surprise, however, Dumbledore’s face broke into the first true, proud smile she had seen from him all night. “In light of your profound services to the school, and in particular the lives of the students you undoubtedly saved from a dreadful fate, I award Ravenclaw 100 points.” Ophelia’s face lit up at this, genuinely surprised that she was receiving praise and points for her reckless actions. Rakepick rolled her eyes very pointedly from behind Dumbledore’s back. “However,“ Dumbledore continued, and Ophelia’s face fell again as his expression and voice took on a sterner tone, “the kitchens are, as I am sure you are aware, generally off limits to students who are not supposed to be there. The same could be said of the restricted section in the library, and certainly more so the dark forest, and that hasn’t seemed to slow you down yet. I am afraid I must stand by my previous warnings against seeking out the cursed vaults, and will have to take disciplinary action. 60 points will be taken from Ravenclaw for trespassing, and I will be writing to your mother tonight detailing your misadventure and Jacob’s return.”

Ophelia sat bolt upright in her bed so quickly that she almost gave herself whiplash, and she looked up at Dumbledore with wide eyes.

“JACOB’S BACK?!” she screamed. Madam Pomfrey stuck her head out of her office and gave a resounding shush that could rival Madam Pince. Fortunately, all of the other patients in the hospital wing were so debilitated from their experience with the portrait curse that they continued to sleep quite soundly. Ophelia didn’t care if she woke up everyone in the castle with the news. She threw the sheets off her body and tried to swing her legs off the bed, eager to see Jacob as soon as possible, but flinched and yelped in pain as the bruises and burns over her body once again made themselves known. Madam Pomfrey came running back over, and pushed Ophelia forcefully back into bed, tucking her sheets in around her so tightly that Ophelia felt as though she were in a straight jacket. She shot her a withering look before retreating back to her office.

“Yes, Ophelia, Jacob is back. According to Pitt’s account of the evening, he emerged from the vault once it had been opened and incapacitated one Olivia Green before losing consciousness. My understanding is that nearly 6 years without any physical use of his body, followed immediately by knocking out an adversary with a rock, put quite a toll on your brother. He has been admitted to St. Mungo’s Hospital, where the spell damage ward will be monitoring his recovery. We are all currently… unsure of exactly how the vaults affected him and how they may continue to do so for the foreseeable future, but rest assured he in under the best professional care available.

“And where’s Olivia Green?” Ophelia pressed, struggling against the tight sheets and still not bothering to lower her voice. Professor Dumbledore looked grave again, but it was Rakepick who spoke up this time.

“Miss Green was detained by the Ministry immediately after the house-elf brought her back to the kitchens. She will be subject to a hearing to answer for her crimes, and will be tried for the murder of Duncan Ashe, as well as using an unforgiveable curse to torture you, using an unforgiveable curse to manipulate other students, and being a member of a terrorist organization that sought to wreak havoc on a sizeable faction of the wizarding world. We don’t know exactly what R is up to and what their endgame is, since Olivia is the first known agent that’s ever been apprehended, but we’re working on it. Regardless, the only thing waiting for her at the end of that hearing is a dementor’s kiss or a lifetime in Azkaban.” She seemed entirely unperturbed by the grim reality of her statements. Ophelia simply gaped at her, dumbstruck by the sheer amount of information she was taking in.

“You will not need to be worrying about Olivia Green ever again,” Dumbledore said gently, resting a reassuring hand on Ophelia’s shoulder. “If we are correct in assuming that she was the sole presence of R working around Hogwarts, then any threats made against you, your friends, and this school can be considered neutralized.” He smiled, and Ophelia forced a smile back, but her mind was racing with everything she had just been told and still wanted to know.

Madam Pomfrey coughed pointedly, a bottle of purple potion now clutched in her hands. Her glare suggested that this conversation would best be continued at a time other than 2 in the morning, ideally in a location other than a hospital wing filled with recovering patients. Dumbledore gave her a respectful nod and moved to leave the wing. However, he paused once more at the foot of Ophelia’s bed and leaned forward.

“One last thing before I leave you for the night, Ophelia. I suggest you keep news of your brother’s return to yourself as best you can, or you might have some publicity problems to worry about. St. Mungos has a strict patient confidentiality policy, but if _The Prophet_ were to find out about Jacob’s sudden reappearance, you and your family might find yourself at the mercy of one of the paper’s more… aggressive reporters.” He and Ophelia shared a knowing look that confirmed that they both knew exactly which green-quilled reporter Dumbledore was referring to. “Besides,” Dumbledore straightened up again and began to walk towards the doors “assuming the trial of Olivia Green goes as expected, your brother will be pardoned of all accusations and will be fully welcomed to resume his interrupted education at Hogwarts once he has recovered. You may both find yourselves more comfortable if the news does not spread before then. I wish you a speedy recovery and good night, Ophelia” he said, and walked out the door before Ophelia could get another word in. She had no idea how Jacob, a 23 year old man, would be able to covertly continue his education amidst a student body of 11-18 year olds, but she was distracted by Madam Pomfrey rushing forward with her purple potion.

However, before Madam Pomfrey could get Ophelia to open her mouth again and drink its contents, Madam Rakepick stepped forward again, having not left the hospital wing alongside Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey looked profoundly annoyed at this point, and placed the potion bottle on Ophelia’s bedside table with perhaps a little more force than necessary. She then returned to her office, extinguishing all of the lights as she went, before slamming her door with an air of irritated finality.

Madam Rakepick clearly didn’t care about the disruption she was posing to the running of the hospital wing and Ophelia’s recovery, and continued to approach Ophelia, stopping at her side.

“You were so, so incredibly stupid tonight. You and Miss Snyde both,” she said, looking down at Ophelia with a furrowed brow. “I was an owl away, you had all the information ready, and you still went in headfirst with nothing but minimal preparation, a half-assed plan, and an incredible amount of luck. You would have died in dragonfire if it hadn’t been for Olivia, and you would have been killed by her if not for the miraculous reappearance of your mystery brother.” Ophelia crumbled a little under her glare. There was no inaccuracy in anything Rakepick had said, and Ophelia and Merula’s previous excuses for excluding Rakepick now seemed incredibly petty and reckless. However, Rakepick’s stern gaze broke into the first genuine smile Ophelia had maybe ever seen on her face, with absolutely no trace of sarcasm or smugness. “You still did good, Fawley. You solved a puzzle I’m ashamed to say I couldn’t, and you fought like a champ against dangers that definitely would have been a challenge for me. I’m proud to have called you and Snyde my apprentices, and if you two keep up work like this, there’s guaranteed positions at Gringotts with your names on them.” She shot Ophelia a wink, and turned to leave the hospital wing as well. “Take that potion,” she added as she walked, not turning back to look at her as she did. “You’ll need it after what you’ve been through tonight.” She left, and the hospital wing was free of visitors once more.

Ophelia gingerly leaned forward to grab the purple potion that Madam Pomfrey had left with her and drank all of it in one go. The alertness she had felt was instantly replaced by a heavy drowsiness. She leaned backwards, feeling as though she was being lowered unto the softest, warmest cloud as darkness took over once again. She was out cold before her head had completely sunk into the pillow, and the terrors of the portrait vault eluded her for the rest of the night.

*

Ophelia woke up feeling incredibly well rested, her mind fresh and clear after a remarkably good night of sleep. She had no idea what time it was, but the harsh sunlight against her closed eyelids was a good indicator that it must be fairly late in the day. As she slowly roused, she became aware of the sounds of quiet, distant murmurs. She opened her eyes and nearly jumped out of bed in surprise, finding herself surrounded on all sides by eight familiar faces.

Rowan, Tulip, Tonks, Charlie, Jae, Barnaby, Ben, and Penny all sat around her bed, speaking in low voices amongst themselves while they waited for their friend to wake up. Their attention snapped to Ophelia at the sound of her startled cry. Immediately, she was overwhelmed with questions and cries of relief as her friends descended upon her all at once. Madam Pomfrey came over at the sudden commotion.

“Only 6 guests per patient, I was being generously lenient letting you all in at once to see Miss Fawley but with this level of noise at least one of you will have to leave!” she said.

“I’m signed in as Merula’s guest,” Tulip said quickly, standing up to make her way over towards Merula’s bed opposite Ophelia’s. Ophelia could see that Merula had been dozing, but she jumped awake at the sound of her name and looked around in confusion. Tulip quickly sat back down at Ophelia's side, avoiding eye contact while Merula still looked around for whoever had called for her. Unlike Ophelia, she had no friends or well-wishers surrounding her bed. She eventually frowned and settled herself back against her pillows, her eyes now wide open and staring aggressively at the ceiling. Ophelia had no doubt that she had awoken far earlier than Ophelia had, and had been eavesdropping on her friends ever since they arrived.

“I’m here with my sister, Beatrice,” Penny said immediately, nodding over to Beatrice’s bed, where she was still sleeping. Madam Pomfrey’s face screwed up a little bit, clearly unable to find a fault in Penny and Tulip’s loopholes. She huffed and turned around to deal with a portrait-curse victim that had just started to stir. Once Madam Pomfrey’s attention had been redirected, Tulip suddenly turned on Ophelia and punched her hard in the arm.

“Ow!” Ophelia cried, clutching her already bruised and bandaged arm.

“That’s for lying to us, avoiding us, and almost getting killed!” Tulip cried, looking genuinely upset at Ophelia’s betrayal. However, before Ophelia could even begin to explain herself, Tulip had thrown herself at Ophelia, hugging her tightly while tears ran down her face. Ophelia was shocked and caught off guard, but then returned the hug with matching intensity, crying into Tulip’s shoulder as well. Rowan joined in the tearful hug, followed by Penny and Tonks.

“I almost died as well you know!” Merula called, peering around the crowd at Ophelia’s bed to make herself known. Nobody paid her any mind, and Merula huffed, crossing her arms over her body while she watched Ophelia be smothered with love and friendship.

Once the girls had gotten the crying and hugging out of their system, they all sat back again to give Ophelia some space. She felt so soft and loved by her friends, more now in this moment than ever before, but being at the bottom of a hug pile had done a number on her injuries, and she winced as everyone detached themselves.

“So what happened to your… everything?” Tonks asked, gesturing hesitantly to Ophelia’s body as a whole. Ophelia’s ankle was in a cast, the arm Olivia had cut into was wrapped in bandages, there was gauze and plasters all over her face, and everything that wasn’t wrapped in a bandage was developing large, purple bruises. Ophelia noticed for the first time that a bottle of skele-grow was sitting on her bedside table, alongside several more rolls of bandages and gauze. Rowan reached for Ophelia’s chart at the end of the bed and began to read it aloud to the group, her eyes growing wider at each line.

“Broken ankle, cracked ribs, lacerations all over body, considerable bruising, deep cut in left arm, trauma in skull and spine, and- DRAGONFIRE BURNS?” Rowan said, practically throwing down the clipboard as she looked at Ophelia with a fresh sense of horror and concern.

“Yeah that checks out,” Ophelia said, stretching out her body and wincing as each of the injuries Rowan had listed became apparent.

“I was hit by a dragon tail and thrown 20 feet through the air!” Merula said, lifting her arm to show that much of her torso was wrapped in bandages similarly to Ophelia. Her other arm was in a cast and a sling. Ophelia saw that another bottle of skele-grow was sitting on Merula’s bedside table as well.

Charlie’s eyes widened, his head pivoting rapidly between Merula and Ophelia as their dragon-related injuries were revealed.

“You saw a dragon? A real, live dragon? Here? In the castle??” Charlie interrupted excitedly, having seemingly forgotten the laundry list of damage Ophelia had sustained.

“Yeah, it’s only awake when the curse is active, and sleeps when its not, which must be how it’s survived for centuries under the castle,” Ophelia said, secretly a little hurt that Charlie has been so quick to overlook her injuries and instead focus on the dragon that had very nearly killed both her and Merula.

“That would explain your hair,” Jae said with an eyebrow raised, nodding at Ophelia’s head. Ophelia’s hands flew up to her head and felt that all of the charred damage had been cut away, presumably shortly after she had first been admitted to the hospital wing. It left an uneven mop that rested between her chin and shoulders. Her curls had fortunately disguised how choppy the removal of damaged hair had been, but her hair was still lopsided and thinned out. Penny tutted sympathetically as Ophelia realized the extent of the damage.

“I think it’s a look,” Tonks said enthusiastically, her spiky pink locks suddenly growing out into dark umber curls cut haphazardly around her head to reflect Ophelia’s. Ophelia frowned forlornly at the mirrored state of her hair, which looked even worse than she had assumed from feeling it. Her hair had previously gone down to her elbows, but now the longest parts rested just above her shoulder.

“You look like Merula” Tulip said, her face twisting in disgust.

“Fawley wishes her hair could look like mine,” Merula called angrily from her bed, although she raised a few fingers to her hair self-consciously as she said this.

“It’s not so bad,” Rowan said defensively. “I’ve never seen you with short hair, you look cute,” she added, smiling kindly at Ophelia. Ophelia knew Rowan was just saying that to make her feel better, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“I’m confused, dragons shouldn’t be able to make precise cuts like you have on your face and arm,” Barnaby said, his brow furrowed as he tried very hard to explain this phenomenon. “Dragons would leave larger, deeper gauges. Did you have to fight something else?”

Barnaby was right, and everyone turned to Ophelia expectantly to explain the superfluous injuries that couldn’t be explained by a dragon fight alone. Even Merula leaned forward eagerly to hear what had happened, as she had been taken out early on by the dragon and had missed most of the cursed vault experience. Ophelia hesitated, entirely unsure of how much information she could divulge to the group. On one hand, she could tell them absolutely everything, including Jacob’s return, but there were too many ears in the hospital wing, and sharing such juicy gossip among 7 people was a surefire way to make sure the entire wizarding world knew by dinnertime. For now, she would have to settle for an abridged account of what had transpired.

“There was a member of R down there as well,” Ophelia finally said, and the entire group recoiled in horror as she did. Even Merula looked completely taken aback by this development. “They followed me and Merula into the kitchens, immobilized the dragon, and then dueled me to get to the vault first.” The entire hospital wing had become suddenly quiet, as if patients, visitors, and matron alike were all holding their breaths to hear more. “They tortured me for information on the cursed vaults and tried to make me open the vault for them in case it was trapped. They nearly killed me too” Ophelia said.

“How did you escape?” Rowan asked, clutching Ophelia’s hand tightly in her own as Ophelia recounted the pain and horror she had experienced in the vault. Ophelia offered a wry smile and looked directly at Jae.

“It was Pitts,” she said. “Pitts dropped a rock on Ol- the R agent, and knocked them out cold, and then I passed out. Pitts then brought us all back to the kitchens.” That part was a definite lie. She couldn’t expose Jacob’s presence, but it was also somewhat true. She certainly wouldn’t be sitting here alive and recovering in front of her friends if Pitts hadn’t reappeared to open the vault and apparate everyone to safety. Jae was beaming with mirthful glee, impressed and delighted that his detention boss had the ability and grit to just drop a rock on someone’s head. He’d never have expected Pitts to do something like that, but was thrilled to hear about it nonetheless. Everyone else who had heard of Pitts from Ophelia’s stories about her year-long detention also seemed impressed by the actions of the gruff house-elf.

“So what was in the vault?” Ben asked nervously, breaking the long silence that Ophelia had left at the end of her story. Ophelia bit the inside of her mouth, but then shrugged sadly.

“Nothing. There was nothing inside the vault,” she said, and the crowd seemed to be just as disappointed as she was pretending to be.

“What?!” Merula shouted, leaning forward with a jolt, her eyes wild. “After everything we went through, there was nothing in there?!” her angry shouts went ignored by the group while they tutted disappointedly for Ophelia.

“Jacob wasn’t in there?” Rowan asked sympathetically, rubbing Ophelia’s arm. Ophelia shook her head no, but her stomach leapt and twisted at the thought of the truth. Her brother _had_ been in there, and now he was recovering in London. Her brother was back, and as soon as she would be allowed to, she couldn’t wait to tell her friends. She had already lied to her friends so much to access this vault, and she still felt incredibly guilty about it, but she had to hold onto this one last secret, for her family.

“But what about the next vault? You won’t have any clues if there’s another curse!” Penny said, glancing over at Beatrice as she said this. “It took so long to break this curse even with clues, and going into the next one blind might make it unsolveable!” Ophelia sighed and leaned back into the bed, looking around at all her friends.

“That’s the other thing… I think I’m done with curse-breaking at Hogwarts. Whatever happens next shouldn’t be the job of a 16 year old just trying to get through her N.E.W.T.s. And that’s even if there is another curse. The R agent I fought in the vault and Pitts took out was the one who had been triggering all the curses, and now that they’ve been arrested, there won’t be anyone else to tamper with the vaults. Hogwarts should be safe… and I’m retiring from curse-breaking, at least until after I graduate” she said, smiling reassuringly at her friends.

“Speak for yourself!” Merula called over.

“Who was the R agent then, if they arrested them? Was it anyone we’ve ever heard of?” Ben asked. Rowan nodded fervently in agreement, looking to Ophelia for an answer. The two of them had been most directly affected by R’s influence, and were the most invested in R facing consequences for their crimes. Ophelia’s face fell again. There were so many secrets surrounding Jacob’s disappearance, but it seemed there would be just as many surrounding his return.

“No, it was some random, unknown person with no previous record in the ministry” Ophelia said. In truth, Olivia had gone missing before turning 17 and had been presumed dead, so the ministry would have no official records of her existence beyond the school archives.

Everyone seemed disappointed by this information, or lack thereof, but then seemed to come to terms with it. Maybe it was for the best that R really was just some crazy cult with no real ties to Ophelia’s family. Ophelia knew better though.

At this point, Madam Pomfrey seemed to have reached the limits of her patience with the constantly chattering group that flocked Ophelia and had been gasping, crying, and talking loudly for the better part of an hour. She came back over to break up the crowd, ushering them away from Ophelia’s bed and towards the doors, claiming that she had an at-capacity hospital wing filled with students who NEEDED peace and quiet to recover. Ophelia's friends all waved and called their goodbyes as they were herded out the door, promising return visits as soon as they could. Madam Pomfrey practically slammed the door behind them.

Now that the hospital wing was free of visitors, Ophelia could clearly see Merula lying across from her, and their eyes locked. Ophelia took in her matching plethora of injuries, and for the first time, possibly ever, Ophelia felt a wave of fondness and gratitude for Merula Snyde.

“Merula, tha-“

“I’m sorry I was such a miserable curse-breaker” Merula cut her off, looking genuinely apologetic and very dejected. “I thought it would come so naturally to me, but I got taken out like 10 minutes in, and you still got the whole adventure to yourself.”

“Merula, I was going to thank you, you were absolutely incredible! You stared a dragon in the face and blinded it without hesitation! I would have been so, so dead if I didn't have you alongside me. I was so lucky to have you as a partner.” Ophelia said earnestly, leaning as far forward as she could to address Merula, despite the sharp pain she felt from the burns and bruises as she did so. Merula still looked disappointed and angry at herself and averted her eyes. From this distance, she couldn’t be sure, but she suspected Merula might be crying.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t actually get to do any curse-breaking,” Merula said, looking to her side out the window in an effort to avoid Ophelia’s gaze. Her voice was surprisingly level, despite the personal defeat she was obviously dealing with. She paused, leaving a poignant silence between the two of them. Ophelia felt so sorry for Merula, who had no idea how much they had actually achieved that night. Finally, Merula took a deep breath and continued. “I’m the most powerful witch at Hogwarts, but maybe I’m just not cut out for curse-breaking,” she said, her voice finally cracking. There was another long pause.

“Did you talk to Rakepick?” Ophelia asked. Merula looked back towards her, her magenta eyes definitely a little watery, and shook her head no. Ophelia pressed on. “She was here last night, after we were admitted to the hospital wing. She said we did a great job together and that she was proud of us.” The corners of Merula’s mouth twitched upwards reluctantly, and she turned her head towards the window again to hide the blush that was creeping across her face. “Rakepick said, if we wanted it, there were curse-breaking jobs at Gringotts for both of us after we graduate, because _you_ are a fantastic curse-breaker.”

If someone had told Ophelia she would ever say anything so kind and reassuring to Merula after a moment of vulnerability, Ophelia would have laughed them off in disbelief. However, she sincerely meant what she had said to Merula, and her heart once again glowed with fondness and appreciation as she saw the proud smile take over Merula’s face. Merula was quiet again for several minutes, but then said quietly, without looking away from the window, “You too, Fawley. You too.”


	14. Remember A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Remember a day before today  
>  A day when you were young  
> Free to play alone with time  
> Evening never comes  
> _

One by one, the students who had been hospitalized following their rescue from the portrait curse were released, although there was considerable variation in the lasting effects of their imprisonment. Those who had been trapped for the shortest amount of time recovered within a day, and suffered no significant side effects. However, those who had been trapped for months experienced problems with balance, depth perception, and auditory processing. Nevertheless, by the end of the week, the hospital wing had been successfully cleared of all the cursed vault victims, save for Ophelia.

It had been a while since Ophelia had been in the hospital wing for any reason, and this had by far been her longest stay. Even though the danger had passed, she constantly felt antsy, eager to leave the sterile environment of the hospital wing and get back to the real world. While painfully waiting for her bones to regrow and her bruises to subside, Ophelia’s mind often wandered to her brother, of whom she had heard absolutely no news since she had first been admitted. She was often seized with a manic frenzy to just run away from Hogwarts to go visit him. She had been assured that her mother had received the letter that Dumbledore had sent her regarding Ophelia’s actions, but Ophelia had yet to hear any response from her either. It was unlike her mother to go so long after a disciplinary letter home without reprimanding her for her dangerous escapades, and Ophelia had absolutely no doubt in her mind that her mother was entirely too preoccupied with Jacob, in whatever state he was in, to give a second thought to her safe and sound daughter.

On the day Ophelia was due to be released, she was practically bouncing with anticipation to get back to her school life, despite the mountain of N.E.W.T. level classes and homework she was expected to make up. She was desperate to surround herself with her friends again and pretend everything was normal.

After she had folded her hospital-issued pajamas on the bed, she looked up and was surprised to see Penny at the door. Ophelia hadn’t seen her in several days, as she had left when Beatrice was released. There were dark circles under Penny’s eyes from her bedside vigil while Beatrice was recovering, but she looked happier and more at ease than Ophelia had seen her in over a year.

“How are you feeling?” Penny asked as she approached, eyeing up Ophelia with a sympathetic expression. Ophelia still had a large healing cut across her face, but her robes were hiding any residual damage from the public eye. However, despite the miracle workings of Madam Pomfrey to heal her broken body in record time, she couldn’t help but occasionally wince, and her general speed had agility had been reduced considerably. Anything faster than a brisk walk was a painful struggle for her, and she knew she would have to take this into account while moving between her classes. Despite this, Ophelia offered a casual shrug and smiled and Penny.

“Better than ever,” Ophelia said with a half-smile. “I’m ready to go back into the world and fight some more dragons.”

“Not quite,” Penny said wryly, and from the pockets of her robes she withdrew a pair of small silver shears. “Your hair is a disaster and I will not allow your first public reappearance after saving the school yet again to be marred by it.” Ophelia reached up to her head self-consciously, but after having seen Tonks’ impersonation of her hair, she nodded in agreement. Besides, whatever Penny did to her hair couldn’t be worse than how it looked now. Penny gestured for Ophelia to sit in the chair next to the bed Ophelia had just vacated, and Ophelia obliged, albeit hesitantly. Penny took up a position behind her and immediately got to work with evening out Ophelia’s haphazard locks.

“Do you really know what you’re doing?” Ophelia asked nervously.

“Of course, I’ve been cutting mine and Bea’s hair for years. No one else can frame my face the way I want it to.” Penny said confidently, and Ophelia heard the telltale sharp snips of blades severing hair uncomfortably close to her ears. “To be fair, I’m not making any major decisions with the length here, the dragon did most of that for me.” Ophelia heard another unnerving snip close to the back of her neck.

“How’s Bea doing?” Ophelia asked, trying to find a distraction. She personally hated the sound of scissors cutting hair and was eager to get her mind away from the experience. Penny sighed.

“She’s fine, I guess, but she’s still not all there. Her eyes still won’t focus properly and its making her nauseous, and sometimes she just can’t process words that are being said to her, even after repeating it several times. She’s still a little wobbly on her feet, since she hasn’t used them properly in a while, but she’s getting better every day. Madam Pomfrey said she’ll be back to normal eventually, but we’re also pretty lucky that Bea’s as functional as she is after everything she’s been through…” Penny trailed off, and the empty hospital wing was silent other than the sounds of shears.

After a few more minutes, Ophelia heard penny step backwards, stow the scissors away, and mutter a charm to sweep up and vanish the fallen hairs. Penny stepped around the front to admire her handiwork and sighed again.

“Your hair was so pretty long, I hope it grows back fast, but it looks better now than it did when it was all burned.” She offered Ophelia a small compact mirror from her bag, and Ophelia nearly fell over at the reflection staring back at her.

Penny was indeed very good at framing hair, but the curls were doing most of the heavy lifting in terms of establishing the shape and volume around her head. Her hair was longest at the back, where it rested against the nape of her neck. At the front, her hair rested against her cheekbones, going no further than her ears. It was indeed an improvement, but the effect was jarring. In a pair of round glasses, she would be the spitting image of Jacob.

“Is it okay?” Penny asked worriedly, eyeing Ophelia’s shocked reaction to the haircut. “I took away as little as I could.”

Ophelia forced a grateful smile and looked away from the eerily familiar reflection up to Penny. “It looks great, Penny. Thanks.”

*

The school reacted to Ophelia’s return with a variety of attitudes, ranging from irritation at her grandiose heroism, to adoration of her grandiose heroism. Ophelia couldn’t walk down a hallway without feeling stares from all sides, hearing people muttering largely untrue retellings of her experience down in the vault, or experience people pointing confusedly at her drastic new look. Ophelia had largely anticipated this, and was just grateful that she’d heard nothing explicitly regarding Olivia or Jacob.

“It’s just a haircut, I don’t see why everyone is so worked up,” Tulip said dismissively as a gaggle of second years passed by at the breakfast table, openly ogling the back of Ophelia’s head with wide eyes while Ophelia ignored them.

“It’s not as bad as the time Penny got bangs,” Rowan noted reassuringly, making a point of pouring herself tea as loudly as possible to drown out the shameless whispers from the next party down the table.

“Nothing was as bad as Penny’s bangs,” Andre noted, and a collective grimace went through the group as they remembered that especially unfortunate cosmetic experiment.

Their conversation, and most of those around them, was gratefully diverted by the arrival of the morning owl post. Ophelia looked up expectantly, eager to hear of some news from her mother or St. Mungo’s regarding any news of Jacob’s condition. However, she was unable to see Arke among the messengers, and resumed her breakfast disappointedly as the flock thinned out and eventually exited the great hall.

Rowan flipped open a copy of the Daily Prophet, her eyes darting across the page as she took in the info with a lightning reading speed.

“Oh! They mentioned you!” She cried as she went down the page, but then frowned. “Well, that’s not very nice,” she amended, twisting the paper away from Ophelia’s prying eyes.

”What’s the story?” Ophelia asked curiously, trying to reach across the table to grab the paper from Rowan’s hands. She was sure she could guess, but she was anxious to know exactly how much information had gotten out to the press.

“It’s the trial of some lady named Olivia Green,” Rowan said, still playing keep-away with the paper while she tried to read the article. “She must have been that R agent who attacked you in the vault, but there’s no picture. It just mentions that you were involved in her arrest.” Ophelia finally managed to grab a handful of the paper, and Rowan reluctantly relinquished it.

**AGENT OF CHAOS TRIED FOR CRIMES AGAINST HOGWARTS**

**After hiding the latest curse from the public eye for over a year, Hogwarts can finally sleep easy knowing that Olivia Green, the perpetrator for its recent string of curses, has been apprehended and brought to justice, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent for the Daily Prophet.**

**Since October last year, notoriously incompetent headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore has been hiding the fact that innocent and unsuspecting children have been magically imprisoned inside portraits across the castle, subjecting said children to considerable physical and mental trauma.**

**Despite hiring renown Gringotts cursebreaker Patricia Rakepick as a private investigator, and later as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the curse continued to terrorize the student body. After finding herself incapable of solving the mystery and apprehending the curse, Rakepick abandoned her successive positions at Hogwarts earlier this year to continue her career breaking curses abroad for Gringotts Bank. Rakepick, who was present at the trial, declined to comment.**

**Although the nature of the confrontation and arrest has remained yet another secret that Dumbledore is unwilling to disclose to the public, the ministry took Olivia Green into custody shortly after the curse was broken nearly 2 weeks ago on the night of October 31 st.**

**Although little is known about Olivia Green following her mysterious disappearance 7 years ago, records indicate that she had been a prefect and star pupil while studying at Hogwarts with no criminal implications to speak of. In the time since her disappearance in the middle of her 6 th year at school, Green seemingly threw all of this away and had become a member of a mysterious and evil organization. Under interrogation, she refused to disclose the name and nature of the organization or the identity of its members, although it was clear that she sought to bring death and chaos to the wizarding world both within and outside the walls of Hogwarts castle.**

**She was found guilty of unleashing no less than 4 ancient curses on the staff and students of Hogwarts, multiple uses of the Unforgiveable Curses, and being responsible for the death of Hogwarts student Duncan Ashe in 1982. Green was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for her crimes.**

**Hogwarts students Ophelia Fawley and Merula Snyde were recovered at the scene at the time of Green’s arrest, suffering from grievous injuries after dealing with the unknown horrors of the vault. It was later confirmed that they had encountered Olivia Green within the vault, and that Green had tortured Fawley extensively for information.**

**“It’s really terrible that a child should be subjected to such horrors. We can all hope that the remainder of their educational experiences will be considerably less eventful,” said a concerned Wizengamot member who wished to remain anonymous.**

**Fawley, who once again played the role of glorified child hero, has previously been at the forefront of the curses for several years, and until the recent arrest of Olivia Green, was suspected to be responsible for the outbreak of the curses themselves. This reporter’s own experiences with the precocious and insubordinate teenager would suggest that although she may not be directly responsible for unleashing the curses, the lack of disciplinary action taken for her disregard of school rules may encourage a future of criminal anarchy that the Ministry should be wary of. Fawley was not present at the trial and was unavailable for comment.**

**Because Green and the cabal she pledges loyalty to were found to be solely responsible for the tragic and explosive death of 16-year-old student Duncan Ashe 7 years ago, Ophelia Fawley’s brother, Jacob Fawley, has been cleared of all charges relating to the incident. Sources say that Green had close ties to Ashe and Fawley during her school years, and their tumultuous relationship may have led up to the actions that brought her to court this morning.**

**Jacob Fawley’s expulsion from Hogwarts has been retroactively retracted, and he will no longer be seen as a fugitive criminal in the eyes of the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, Jacob Fawley disappeared shortly after his initial expulsion, and with no evidence to the contrary, many informants suspect him to be dead. Like his sister, Jacob Fawley had a notably profound disdain for school rules and a penchant for pranks and pandemonium. Old classmates recall him as being “an arrogant bastard who was a danger to himself and others”.**

**If, despite the apprehension of Olivia Green, Hogwarts continues to suffer from curses under Dumbledore’s administration, it may be prudent to consider deposing him as headmaster, suspending Miss Fawley, or closing the school down entirely to save future generations of students from the dangers it poses.**

Ophelia flipped down the top of the newspaper to peer at Rowan, who looked back at her apologetically.

“I told you it wasn’t very nice,” Rowan said, taking the newspaper back from Ophelia and tucking it under her plate.

“It’s fine, Rita’s said worse things about me,” Ophelia said with a shrug. All things considered, she was ultimately relieved that the article didn’t have more to say about Olivia, R, and Jacob. She was especially grateful that the news about Jacob’s return and recovery hadn’t been released to the press.

“Oh, no, I meant what they said about your brother, and him being… _dead_.” Rowan finished in low whisper. “That must be a horrible thing to read about your own bother.”

“ _The Prophet_ ’s been saying Jacob’s been dead since day one,” Ophelia said with a pointed glare. “Besides,” she resumed buttering her toast, “Jacob’s not dead, I’m sure of it.” Rowan looked as though she wanted to ask more questions, or perhaps even make a note on Ophelia’s stubborn insistence that her brother was still out there, but any thought she had was interrupted by the approach of Professor Flitwick.

“Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office, Miss Fawley,” he said, and Ophelia looked at him with her brow furrowed.

“Sir, classes are about to start, I’ll be late for potions,” Ophelia said. “I’m already behind in classes, and I’m sure Professor Snape won’t be happy that I’ll be missing even more class. Did Professor Dumbledore say what this was for?”

“Professor Dumbledore has assured me that you will be issued an excused absence for as long as necessary, and I’m sure Miss Khanna will be as willing as ever to share her notes and help to catch you up.” He nodded towards Rowan, who smiled and nodded encouragingly to confirm. “I am to understand he wants to see you about a family matter.” He shot Ophelia a knowing look, and Ophelia immediately dropped her fork on her plate.

“Alright, thank you, Sir. I’ll see you guys later,” Ophelia said quickly as she rose to her feet and swung her school bag over her shoulder. Ophelia left the Great Hall quickly, continuing to ignore the stares and murmurs as she jogged towards the Grand Staircase.

*

“Ah, Ophelia, thank you for coming on such short notice, and so quickly.” Dumbledore said as soon as Ophelia emerged from the griffin staircase and into the office. He wasn’t waiting by his desk or in the upper wings of the office as usual, but rather was standing to the side of the room next to a large ornate fireplace.

“Is it Jacob?” Ophelia asked without preamble, running up to stand with him in front of the fireplace.

“It is. I received word from St. Mungo’s that your brother is stable, albeit still comatose, and I assumed you would be eager to see him at the first available opportunity. Your mother has been at his side ever since he was admitted, and I’m sure she would appreciate your company.” Dumbledore reached towards the mantle and pulled down a small satchel. He withdrew a fistful of the silvery dust-like substance inside and threw it into the fire, which immediately flared green.

“St. Mungo’s is expecting your arrival, you’ll be seen to immediately on their end. Send my regards to your mother,” Dumbledore said, gesturing for Ophelia to approach the fire.

Ophelia stepped past the hearth and into the flames, which seemed to be a thing she had gotten quite good at as of late. The green flames licked harmlessly at her body as she took her place in the center of the flue.

“One more thing you should know, Ophelia,” Dumbledore said, stopping Ophelia before she could order the fire to whisk her away. “I am to understand that your brother, though unconscious, may be in an… unanticipated state than what you were expecting. Keep this in mind, as this may have some effect on him when he does wake up.” He stepped back again, giving the all-clear for Ophelia to go.

“St. Mungo’s Hospital” Ophelia stated as clearly as possible, and in a whoosh of green fire and a roaring in her ears, the office vanished, and she was temporarily swept into darkness.

Seconds later, the flames died down to her feet, she stepped out of the fireplace and into an unfamiliar room. She was at the end of a line of 4 identical fireplaces, which were nowhere near as ornate as the fireplace she had entered in Dumbledore’s office. She was sure that they probably served a more utilitarian purpose, operating exclusively as a means of transportation rather than for warmth.

She had never been to St. Mungo’s before, but she had clearly arrived in the lobby of the hospital. At the nearby receptionist’s desk, a very frazzled administrator was dealing with several patients and visitors all at once. Along the wall next to the desk sat a row of wooden chairs occupied by more witches and wizards suffering from various disfigurements and maladies. Healers in lime green robes were constantly walking through the room, taking notes, carrying papers, and herding people from room to room. Folded multi-color paper messages not dissimilar to the memos that circulated the Ministry of Magic were drifting high above everyone’s heads, occasionally swooping down to the receptionist’s desk or resting gently on the shoulders of passing healers. Ophelia had originally expected the hospital to function as a larger version of the hospital wing, but this establishment was considerably noisier, more crowded, and more chaotic than she could have anticipated.

Unsure of what to do, Ophelia began to walk towards the crowded reception, but was intercepted by a lime-clad witch. The witch brandished a clipboard from her sweeping robes and peered at it, glancing between the information on the board, Ophelia’s face, and the school robes Ophelia was still wearing.

“Miss Fawley?” the witch asked, and Ophelia nodded. “This way, please. Your mother is already here and expecting you. In fact, I’m not entirely sure that she’s left since…” she shot a furtive glance over her shoulder, made a summoning motion towards Ophelia, then quickly turned on her heel and made her way across the room, where 4 golden elevators stood opposite the 4 fireplaces. Despite the healer’s relatively short stature, Ophelia had to jog a little to keep up with her long strides. She had to work to keep her wincing to a minimum, wary of drawing attention to her own injured state. The two stepped inside the elevator, along with several other visitors, healers, and pages destined for other floors. Ophelia could feel the stares of the other occupants of the elevator, and immediately feared that that mornings paper had sparked people’s recognition of her. She tried to shrink into the corner, ducking her head so that her face was more obscured by her hair.

“Ye're a long way from school, aren't ye missy?” a tall wizard with a steadily elongating beard said, eyeing up Ophelia. Ophelia glanced up at him, confused, but then remembered that she was still donned in her school uniform, and nobody in this elevator other than the healer assigned to her actually knew who she was at all. Ophelia nodded meekly and offered a small smile, but the wizard had already lost interest in her, and was rapidly gathering up the length of beard he had lost track of, wrapping it around his hand like a spool of yarn as it continued to grow.

“Floor 4, Janus Thickney Ward for Spell Damage” a disembodied woman’s voice sounded, and the healer accompanying Ophelia gestured for her to step out. The healer lead her down an empty hallway and opened a door at the end, allowing for Ophelia to enter. This room was much more like the hospital wing Ophelia was more acquainted with. It was considerably quieter than the lobby, and most of the visitors were sitting around catatonic patients, speaking in low voices or crying softly. The healer walked Ophelia to the end of the ward, where a bed was largely obscured by a floor-to-ceiling curtain. Ophelia saw her partially obscured mother speaking unintelligibly to the bed’s occupant.

“Mrs. Fawley,” the healer said, and Julie Fawley looked up. Her hair was unkempt and there were dark bags under her slightly bloodshot eyes. She looked utterly exhausted, but her face lit up at the sight of her daughter.

“Ophelia!” she cried, rushing to her feet and pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. Ophelia returned the embrace sincerely, hoping to put all of the apologies she owed her mother into the hug. Ophelia was entirely ready for the reprimanding of a lifetime and a punishment to go with it, but her mother seemed to have accepted the hug and everything Ophelia meant in it. Once the hug had finished, she looked up at her daughter and ran a hand through Ophelia’s newly cropped hair. “Oh, Ophelia, your hair was so pretty, why did you cut it?” she said forlornly. Ophelia opened her mouth to tell her exactly what had happened to her hair, but immediately thought better of it.

“Just time for a change, I guess. It’ll grow back, Mum, don’t worry.” Ophelia said reassuringly, taking her mother’s hand in her own and holding it at her neck. There was a peaceful pause, but then Ophelia jumped, having been entirely distracted from her entire purpose of visiting the hospital. “Where’s Jacob, I want to see him!” she cried, jumping out of her mother’s embrace and running around the curtain. Jacob was lying in the bed, unresponsive and unconscious, as Ophelia had been promised, but she was in no way ready for the sight that was waiting for her.

The person lying in the bed wasn’t the 23 year old man she had seen in the enchanted mirror in the spare room. In fact, it wasn’t a man at all. The Jacob lying in front of her was the exact same boy she remembered losing 7 years ago, the one she saw smiling up at her in the old photos in his dusty room. This boy was not a day over 16. His round glasses had been placed on the bedside table next to him, and Ophelia was sure that with her short hair, the side-by-side resemblance between the siblings was especially striking.

She turned to the healer, who had been hovering behind the family the entire time, clearly anticipating some level of shock at this development.

“What-? Why-? _How??_ ” Ophelia stammered gesturing towards the teenager sleeping in the bed.

“We’re not sure, Miss Fawley,” the healer said with a sigh, consulting the charts on her clipboard. “We suspect it’s a side-effect from prolonged exposure to the powers within the cursed vault, but his condition really is a mystery. We’ve had unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries come look at him to see if it’s some sort of time distortion, even the Chief Healer himself has been consulted on the case, but we don’t understand why he hasn’t aged naturally.” She looked at Ophelia, her mouth a thin straight line across her set jaw. “We will not know the full extent of the damage until he wakes up, but we all hope the regression is only physical.”

A brightly colored page entered the room through a vent above the door and landed gently on the healer’s shoulder. She read it quickly, placed the note in her pocket, stepped back from the bed. “I’m needed down at reception, if you need anything feel free to speak with the ward attendant,” she said, gesturing towards a scrawny young wizard in similar lime robes standing awkwardly near the door. She walked away, leaving Ophelia and her mother standing in silence, watching over the comatose teenager.

“Mum, you should go home and get some rest, you look exhausted.” Ophelia finally said, sitting in the chair that her mother had abandoned when Ophelia had first arrived. “It’s fine, I’ll stay with him for a bit,” she said. Julie hesitated, but after a moment of anxious reluctance, she conceded, leaving the siblings alone in the corner of the ward.

Ophelia looked at Jacob, suddenly entirely unsure of what to do with herself. She hadn’t really planned what she was going to do or say when she met Jacob again. At different points in her curse breaking adventures, she knew she would have been exuberant to see him again, but there were definitely other times when she had decided that when she found him she would greet him with the biggest punch in the face she could muster. In this moment, however, she felt almost numb. She was honestly a little overwhelmed by both his presence and the unexpected state she had found him in, and it was difficult to accurately place her feelings about the situation. Last time they had interacted, he had been a distant, moody teenager, and she had been a naïve child whose entire world started and ended at the front door of their home. She had grown a lot in that time, probably more than most who hadn’t gone through what she had. Despite this, and despite knowing nearly everything she could about R and the vaults up to this point, she felt as though she still hadn’t caught up to her brother.

In a moment of inspired spontaneity, she grabbed the glasses from the side of the bed and gently placed them on Jacob’s face, mussing his hair slightly so that it fell around his eyes in its familiar askew fashion.

“Hey Jacob… it’s me… It’s little Pip,” Ophelia said softly. She immediately felt silly for talking to a comatose person, but the curtain around the bed did provide some privacy, and she was hardly being any less sociable than the other visitors in the ward. She scooted her chair closer to the bed so that she could continue in a quieter voice.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, or… that you’re alive.” She sighed deeply and leaned against the bedside table, resting her cheek in her palm while she regarded her sleeping brother. His chest was rising and falling steadily, as though he were simply sleeping peacefully. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?” she said with a wry smile. “So much more trouble than you’re worth. I got like, at least 3 scars and a terrible haircut while looking for you, you better make it up to me when you wake up.” Jacob remained inert as she said this, but Ophelia found that this one-way conversation was probably one of the better conversations she’d had with him ever, even before he disappeared. It was weirdly calming in a way, and was removing a lot of the pressure she felt about seeing him again for the first time in years.

Ophelia continued her monologue to Jacob for the better part of the morning, telling his unconscious form about everything from her friends and O.W.L. scores to describing the current weather outside in London. She was quite sure that absolutely nothing she was saying was getting through to him, but it didn’t deter her. If Olivia’s recount of her experience trapped inside the vault was any indication, Jacob’s psyche was taking a well-deserved break.

After what must have been hours, Ophelia heard footsteps approach her corner of the ward from behind the bed, and she stooped to gather up her bag. However, when she looked up, instead of seeing the healer who had initially greeted her, she was surprised to see Professor Dumbledore looking down on her and her brother with an expression of mild amusement.

“I’m afraid I must cut into your reunion with your brother, Ophelia, but the time has come for you to come back to the school,” he said. He then turned his attention directly to Jacob’s sleeping form, and Ophelia quickly removed the glasses she had placed on his face to give her a sense of familiarity. She blushed a little, embarrassed that she had been caught playing dress-up and conversing with her unconscious brother, but Professor Dumbledore looked far from judgmental.

“Sorry, I just… it helped me with the… “ Ophelia sighed in defeat, unable to articulate her reasoning behind her actions during her visit, but Dumbledore nodded understandingly.

“The relationship between siblings can be complicated and often fickle. Best friends one day, sworn enemies the next.”

“Do you have siblings, Professor?” Ophelia asked, genuinely curious. She knew so much about her headmaster from the stories of his accolades and accomplishments, but she had just realized that she knew next to nothing about his familial life and childhood. To be fair, it wasn’t really her business, and she felt a little embarrassed for asking such an unprompted and inappropriate question of her headmaster. To her surprise, Dumbledore nodded, smiling sadly at her.

“I did, which is to say, I do. I fear I may have irreparably pushed them away in the pursuits of my own self-interests and lost them forever, but I suppose in a way, our brothers and sisters never truly leave us. Despite the dangerous and lawless measures your took to bring your brother home, I was always impressed by your dedication and faith in him. Even when he was lost, he was so fortunate to have you fighting at his side.”

“He’s going to wake up, right Professor? He’s going to be okay?” Ophelia asked for the umpteenth time that day, but still eager to hear any affirmation.

“I have no doubt that he will wake up, but what he makes of his life after he wakes up is entirely up to him. We must be conscious of the fact that he is now a boy displaced in time, removed from his friends and the life he knew, replaced in a relatively foreign environment. I am sure that he will need you at his side once more to help guide him through it, and I am sure that you will guide him true,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Now, we really should be returning to the school. I believe you’ve missed enough classes to fill your quota for the year, and I would personally hate to be late for lunch on pork chop day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's an image reference for Ophelia pre-haircut and immediately post-haircut


	15. Yellow Flicker Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I dream all year, but they're not the same kinds  
>  And the shivers move down my shoulder blades in double time  
> _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up theres underage drinking in this ch. but only age 16+, which i think is the legal age for consumption in the UK anyways.

The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement on the day of the first quidditch match of the season. It was bitterly cold outside, and it had been raining on and off all morning, but the spirits in the hall were far from dampened. It seemed that every single student in the school, regardless of house, was completely clad in either red and gold in support of Gryffindor, or green and silver in support of Slytherin.

“I don’t get why we have to be so decidedly Gryffindor, I mean, we’re still cheering for Barnaby, right?” Rowan said, tentatively plucking at a crimson scarf that had been loaned to her for the day.

“We can cheer for Barnaby when he hits a bludger really well or something,” Ophelia said with a shrug, her words a little muffled by a mouthful of toast. Ophelia herself was wearing her oversized maroon sweater with a large W knitted into the front. Bill had handed it down to her early in their friendship, and it remained one of her most cherished possessions to date. The W allegedly stood for William, but today it stood for Weasley, in support of Charlie’s debut as quidditch captain.

“You’ll cheer for no quidditch player unless it’s for Ravenclaw,” Andre threatened, pointing his fork at Ophelia and Rowan. He was wearing his usual purple Portree scarf, and was one of the very few students who had opted to forego school spirit. He had claimed this was out of loyalty to Ravenclaw, but everyone knew he was equally loyal to Barnaby and Charlie as friends, and didn’t want to incorporate so many clashing colors into his outfit. “As far as Rowan and I should be concerned, we’re attending this match as a scouting mission to better prepare us for our future games.” Ophelia and Rowan both rolled their eyes. Andre loved quidditch, and would watch any game regardless of any future tactical advantages.

Ophelia looked over at the Gryffindor table to catch a glimpse of the team before they headed out towards the pitch to prepare for the game. Charlie was sitting at the center of the table, flocked by teammates and adoring fans alike, talking casually to everyone in between bites of breakfast. Ophelia was amazed that he looked so calm, even cheerful in light of such a highly anticipated match. She couldn’t think of a time she’d ever approached something that came with all that pressure, not to mention an audience, and had been anywhere as collected as he was right now. She thought back to the informal quidditch scrimmages she had played at his home over the summer, and how easily he had flown circles around her and his own family. That wasn’t really a fair comparison, though, since a flobberworm could fly circles around Ophelia.

He looked up from his conversation and caught her staring at him from across the hall. He shot her an excited double thumbs up. Ophelia ducked her head, embarrassed that he had caught her gawking, but she returned the thumbs as a show of support. He missed the gesture, his attention having since been redirected towards his team. They rose as a group and, still flocked by their fans, made their way out towards the pitch to prepare for the match. Ophelia returned to her eggs, her stomach now fluttering with anticipation for the game. After a few moments of deciding she was far too excited to stomach any more breakfast, she and her friends followed the quidditch teams’ leads and headed out towards the stadium.

A roll of thunder sounded overhead as Ophelia, Rowan, Andre, Tulip, Penny, Tonks, and Beatrice left the entrance hall among the throng of chattering students. The sky was getting darker and the rain was coming down harder, but the group, armed with their cloaks and a few large umbrellas, marched out towards the stands, huddling close for warmth and dryness. The ground was slick with mud, made all the more treacherous by Beatrice’s ongoing lack of coordination, and the trek was not without the occasional stumble and slip. They eventually made it to the front of the stands, but were considerably wetter and dirtier for their troubles.

The pitch was already crowded by the time they arrived, and the hordes of people following in behind them promised that the stadium would be packed to capacity. Ophelia slid towards the front seats, packed shoulder to shoulder with her friends. The dozens of nearby conversations all melded into a constant white noise in her ears, punctuated by the occasional thunderclap. Even at the front of the stands, her vision was largely impaired by the rain, and the usually clear voice of the announcer was a little warbled and drowned out by the storm brewing overhead. It was uncomfortable, loud, wet, and crowded, but there was nowhere else Ophelia would rather be that morning.

The entire stadium erupted into cheers as 7 ruby-cloaked figures came streaming out of one end of the pitch, followed shortly by 7 emerald blurs opposite them. The commentator’s voice rang through the rain, counting off the players as they shot past the stands in formation.

“It’s the Gryffindor Team! Perry, Hayes, Robinson, Levy, Powell, Nguyen, aaannd Weasley!” Ophelia’s side of the pitch went wild, waving enthusiastically at the team while they circled the pitch. “Aannd the Slytherin team! Park, Baker, Reid, Rath, Lee, Bright, aaannd Higgs!” A somewhat quieter but no less enthusiastic wave of cheers erupted from the opposite end of the stands as the Slytherin team took a lap in the opposite direction. Eventually the teams pulled themselves into formation. The keepers retreated to the goal hoops, the chasers hovered above the center of the pitch, the beaters circled the chasers in anticipation for the released bludgers, and the seekers broke formation to float high on either end of the pitch to their respecting vantage points.

Ophelia could see Charlie’s unmistakable orange hair-haired figure shoot skywards immediately, hovering patiently. Ophelia remembered what he had said about tuning out everything while he looked for the snitch, but she couldn’t imagine being able to find anything in this weather. Far below him, Ophelia could make out Barnaby, heavy bat in hand, circling the trunk that Madam Hooch was carrying out to the center of the pitch. A shrill whistle sounded, and all 14 players suddenly moved into action as the balls were released into the game.

“Aaaannnnd Gryffindor is in possession! it’s Keira Perry with the quaffle, already making her way towards the Slytherin goalposts, aaand the quaffle is intercepted by Slytherin Captain Emmerson Reid, Slytherin is in possession, but was bumped and has just lost the quaffle to Blair Robinson, and they’re headed towards the goal posts-” The game was moving so quickly and the rain was coming down so hard that Ophelia was surprised the commentator could even see what was happening on the pitch, let alone keep up with the identities and positions of the fast-moving players. She screamed in delight as a shrill ding sounded throughout the stands, indicating Gryffindor had managed to score a point only minutes into the game.

“Easy shot, totally could have been saved,” Andre called from somewhere behind Ophelia’s right ear. She turned and frowned at him, but her attention was quickly brought back to the game by another round of loud cheers from around her.

“Blair Robinson scores 10 points for Gryffindor! Noel Park has the quaffle and Slytherin is back in possession- OOH that was a nasty bludger hit by Slytherin’s Erika Rath. Gryffindor better keep on their toes if they don’t want to spend the rest of the match in the hospital wing.” The crowd jumped and gasped as the bludger swung back around the edge of the pitch, soaring past the front of the crowd and missing them by only a few feet. Barnaby swerved down and hit the bludger with an ear-splitting crack, sending it soaring across the pitch towards the Gryffindor keeper. Ophelia cheered for Barnaby’s fantastic hit, but groaned when the distracted Gryffindor keeper let the quaffle past him, securing Slytherin’s first score of the game.

“Score! 10 points for Slytherin, evening the total to 10-10! Gryffindor is in possession, Robinson passes to Lydia Hayes, Hayes passes to Perry, Perry drops the quaffle to dodge a bludger hit by Lee, Hayes recovers, she’s almost at the posts- FOUL!” the commentator cried, and half the crowd shouted angrily as the Slytherin beater Rath swung her bat at the passing chaser, knocking them off course and sending them spiraling downwards. “Penalty against Slytherin, Lydia Hayes lines up for the shot.” The crowd watched as Hayes, still a little thrown by the hostile move, lined herself up with the middle goal post. She threw the quaffle with possibly a little more force than was necessary, but it passed under the Slytherin keeper’s grasp, nicked the edge of the hoop, and fell through the goal. Another loud ding rang through the stadium. “SCORE! 10 points to Gryffindor! And Slytherin is in possession…”

Gryffindor managed to 3 more times, but Slytherin was rapidly bypassing them, their players becoming more aggressive as the rain continued to beat down on the game. It seemed as though Gryffindor couldn’t hold onto the quaffle for longer than a minute before it was intercepted, blocked, or dropped. The Slytherin half of the stands was deafening, their green and silver banners waving as Slytherin scored again and again, bringing the score to 120-50 Slytherin. The Slytherin beaters were ruthlessly hitting bludgers towards every Gryffindor that was in play, disrupting the chasers, keepers, and beaters from managing to pull off any semblance of organized strategy. The only Gryffindor wholly unaffected by the game below was Charlie, who could still be seen hovering high above the stands, looking out for that elusive glint of gold between the sheets of rain. The Slytherin seeker was mirroring his movements, keeping a watchful eye between his opponent and the pitch below.

“Does Charlie even know that his team is losing by a lot of points?” Rowan asked, peering up through the rain at his blurry red figure. He had hardly moved from his position for the entirety of the game, despite the strong winds that were starting to roll into the pitch.

“Points aren’t really his concern so long as the margin is less than 150,” Andre said, not taking his eyes off the fast-moving chasers towards the bottom of the stadium. “I’m sure Charlie knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, but winning by more points puts them at an advantage for the cup later,” Ophelia reasoned.

“The only team you should hope to have a chance at the quidditch cup is Ravenclaw,” Andre said, leaning over the edge of the stands to try to get better visibility on the game. There was a resounding crack of bat-on-bludger, and all eyes followed the trajectory of the ball as it soared upwards.

The violently-struck bludger, courtesy of Erika Rath, made a beeline directly for Charlie, and from a distance it looked as though it had made contact. Charlie began to fall towards the ground, his body twisting against the wind as he hurtled closer towards the pitch. The crowd screamed, watching his rapid descent in horror, but then relized he was actually in full control of himself and his broom, and was making a precise nose-dive for the field. A flash of gold could be briefly seen in the downpour.

“Weasley’s diving, he’s seen the snitch! And Higgs is right behind him!” the commentator cried, and the entire pitch rose to its feet, following Charlie as he plummeted towards the ground. The Slytherin seeker had indeed noticed and was hot on his tail astride a much faster broom. The two pulled suddenly from the dive, swooped around the field in a wide arc, and climbed back into the sky side-by-side after the snitch. Eventually, the two were lost in the clouds and couldn’t be seen at all from the stands. The crowd fell into a hush for the first time, all eyes, audience and players alike, fixed on the storm overhead. Everything was suspensefully silent for a few minutes, save for the constant beating of rain and rolling of thunder. Everyone waited with baited breath to see what would happen.

Suddenly, Charlie emerged from the storm, diving back towards the pitch with his fist raised triumphantly. The stands erupted into deafening cheers, screaming as Charlie took a victory lap around the stands before heading back to the field. He was engulfed by his teammates before he had even hit the ground, and was lost from view as the Gryffindors rushed the field. Ophelia’s screams and cheers were quickly muffled as the crowds in the stands began to hustle to get out of the rain and back towards the castle. In the rush, Ophelia was separated from her friends as they were carried away by the flow of the mob.

“Party in the Gryffindor common room!” Penny cried as she and Beatrice were swept up with the current. The red and yellow facepaint she had covered herself and her sister in had smeared considerably in the rain and excitement, but she looked as radiant as ever in the aftermath of a good quidditch game. Ophelia waved her off, indicating she had heard and would see her later. She then felt a firm grip on her arm and saw that Rowan had latched herself to Ophelia in an attempt to keep them from getting separated in the crowd. Ophelia hugged her best friend close, and the two worked their way through the throng and back up towards the castle.

*

Ophelia bounced anxiously foot to foot as she, Andre, Tulip, and Rowan stood outside the Gryffindor portrait hole. Although the grand staircase was silent, other than the muffled chattering of people talking on distant landings or the grinding of the stone stairs moving around, Ophelia knew that behind the door would be absolute pandemonium. Gryffindors knew how to throw a party, and victory parties always went over the top.

“You seem antsy,” Andre said to Ophelia with a raised eyebrow. Ophelia blushed and froze in place, unaware that she had been so obviously restless.

“It’s a party, she’s allowed to be excited,” Tulip said from the front of the group, pulling out a slip of parchment bearing the necessary passwords. Getting into other common rooms was not a challenge for Penny, and one only needed to ask her nicely to share that access.

Ophelia nodded at what Tulip had said in her defense, but in truth she was not really looking forward to the party at all. She had, admittedly, very limited experience with large social gatherings like this, and the experience she did have was always marred by strangers dogging her for information about the cursed vaults. With so much of the previous vault’s context and circumstances veiled in mystery, she was still a frequent target of nosy gossips in the castle. Jacob and Olivia were still closely guarded secrets, and she didn’t want to give herself an opportunity to accidentally reveal anything by letting her guard down. Her friends had even all changed into more party-appropriate attire, but she hadn’t even bothered to change out of her W sweater, claiming that a quick drying charm was all the prep she needed for the event.

Her plans for the night involved making an appearance, saying hello to her friends, congratulating the team, making up some excuse about homework, and dipping out early before McGonagall arrived. She loved quidditch, but the high of the victory had long since passed for her.

She peered at Tulip to see if she had gotten them into the common room yet, but didn’t need to wait much longer. The portrait of the fat lady in pink swung inwards a second later, revealing the revel that was going on inside.

People were packed in the cozy common room like sardines, the conversations between them becoming jumbled through the portrait hole. There was a constant shuffling of the crowd as people walked through it, cups of mystery beverage in hand and loud conversations bouncing across the room. Somewhere in the center of the party there would be plenty of food and drink, and the team was undoubtedly dispersed throughout the room to give attention to their fans.

The four stepped through the portrait hole and split off as soon as the entrance shut behind them, leaving Ophelia alone at the front of the room. Andre headed towards some of the Gryffindor chasers who were chatting in the center of the common room on the large plush armchairs, and Rowan and Tulip sought out Penny and Tonks, who could be seen standing against a far wall chatting with some Gryffindor girls. Penny had washed her face since returning to the castle, and had then reapplied the spirited paint just for the party.

Ophelia hesitated, feeling very overwhelmed in the moment, before deciding to follow Rowan and Tulip towards Penny. Distracted and disoriented by the claustrophobic nature of the party, she knocked into a person walking into the opposite direction, sending her tumbling to the ground.

“You alright, Ophelia?” a concerned voice asked, and Ophelia looked up to see that it had been Ben that she had collided with. He offered her a hand to her feet, which she took gratefully.

“I’m ok, thanks, Ben,” Ophelia said, brushing herself off.

“What?” Ben asked loudly, cupping his ear towards her.

“I’m fine!” Ophelia yelled back, but her response was lost over the cacophony of the room. Ben shook his head and tugged her over towards the stairs leading to the dormitories. It was much less crowded around the edges of the room, and considerably quieter. Ophelia smiled gratefully at the relocation. “I’m fine,” she repeated once she knew he could hear her. Ben gave her a pitying look and shook his head again.

“I’m glad that you weren’t hurt when I ran into you, but I’ve been anxious and high-strung my whole life, I know what it looks like when someone’s not fine,” Ben said. Ophelia was taken aback by this unexpectedly acute observation, but she allowed her façade to crumble. She frowned and nodded in confirmation, and Ben patted her arm comfortingly.

“Ever since I opened the last vault, I feel like I’m somewhere between finally being done with curse breaking at Hogwarts, but also I’ve somehow forgotten something really important, like there’s more to come,” Ophelia said dejectedly in a low voice, but gratefully the noise of the party negated the possibility of any eavesdroppers. She sighed and looked up at her friend. “I’m so tired, Ben. I don’t even want to be here right now.”

“That makes two of us,” Ben said, offering her a smile. He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know something about keeping secrets, especially secrets you can’t remember,” Ben added with a chuckle, which, despite herself, Ophelia returned.

“We can’t have you being the reasonable one here,” she said, and Ben laughed heartily and nodded in agreement before continuing.

“I’ve found ways to deal with my anxieties, like breathing exercises, and giving myself time and space to be alone, and helping others so that they don’t have to be worried like I am.” Ophelia smiled as he said this, but he was frowning at her in scrutiny, as though he were reading her like a book. “I’ve known you for a long time. You’re one of my best friends, and I’ve gotten a front row seat to everything you’ve done for everyone. You put all your energy into helping people, but you can’t keep giving when you have nothing left to give yourself. Speaking from experience, if you let yourself get too tense without working through it in a healthy way, you’ll just snap.” He clicked his fingers for emphasis. Ophelia stared at him again, shocked by this ununexpected well of knowledge.

She sighed deeply and slumped against the wall next to Ben, letting his words sink in while she stared at the ground. There was no fault in anything he had said, and she felt as though he had exposed her in ways she didn’t even know she was hiding. This curse breaking business really had been non-stop ever since day one. Jacob was now in recovery, Olivia was in Azkaban, and she had just gone back to her classes as though nothing was wrong.

“I feel… like I’m missing a sense of closure,” she finally managed to articulate, looking back up at Ben. “Like I’m done with curse breaking and R, but they’re not done with me.” Ben flinched a little at the mention of R, but considerably less so than usual, and Ophelia felt fleetingly proud of how far he had come since she had first met him.

“I think you need to find a way to relax,” Ben said wisely. “It doesn’t seem like this party is a good starting point for you, but you deserve to give yourself time and space to recover properly. I can’t think of a single person who has gone what you’ve gone through, and you won’t even tell us everything that happened to you, so we can’t be as worried as we should be.”

“I hate parties,” Ophelia confirmed, taking in the room with a look of disgust on her face, and Ben laughed again.

“Me too. I came down here to grab a book, I couldn’t find it, and now I’m going back to bed.” Ben pushed himself off the wall and turned to head up the stairs to the dormitory. Ophelia rushed after him, desperate to not be left alone again.

“No, please don’t leave me alone, Ben, I don’t want to deal with this party alone!” she cried melodramatically, but she wasn’t being entirely facetious. Ben gently pried her fingers off his arm.

“Ophelia… you are brave and strong and are not afraid of everything like I am. You can definitely handle this party. I definitely, 100%, cannot.” He stepped backwards and hurried up the stairs before Ophelia could stop him. “Don’t forget to relax!” he called once he was out of sight, and Ophelia huffed in annoyance that she had been abandoned at this party once again. She was especially a little annoyed that Ben had managed to lure her into a vulnerable state that she was totally willing to explore, and then dipped before she could openly work on her self-destructive tendencies.

She turned around, seriously debating whether she should take his advice and try to enjoy the party despite her reservations, or if she should just call it quits and go to bed like Ben had.

“Ophelia!” Ophelia spun at the sound of her name and saw Jae approaching her, two cups of mysterious drink in hand. He pushed one of the cups into her hand before taking a large gulp of his, nodding encouragingly.

“You didn’t strike me as the sort to be into parties,” Ophelia said apprehensively. She looked into the cup that Jae had handed her and swirled the contents around. It was bright red, and smelled very fruity with a hint of cloves. She took a tentative sip and immediately coughed, the stiff and spicy contents burning her throat. “Jae, what’s in this?” she sputtered, handing the cup back to him.

“Just a little something to loosen everyone up,” Jae said with a sly smile, but threw his hands up apologetically when Ophelia looked a little horrified. “Relax, it’s just firewhiskey, and not even the good stuff. Some 7th year dumped it in, and no one under 6th year is getting access. I’m not sure who’s enforcing that, but that’s what I was told.” Ophelia frowned at the blatant display and encouragement of underage drinking. She really was a pretty shoddy prefect, but she supposed it was a party after all, and this wasn’t even her house to monitor. She took another hesitant sip, braced for the burn, and this time she was better able to appreciate the sweet fruitiness of the punch, the hot cinnamon flavor, and the comfortable warmth that spread all the way to her stomach.

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” Ophelia said, smacking her lips a little as she swirled her drink again contemplatively. Jae laughed.

“I mean it, it really is not the good stuff, drinking this is a disservice to yourself. And to answer your question, you were right; I really hate parties, but I really love free food.” He winked and nodded towards a table laden with sandwiches and confections.

“You work in the kitchens, you can get free food whenever,” Ophelia said skeptically, taking another gulp of the drink. It was pretty good really, and she was quickly developing a taste for it.

“I’m not going to steal kitchen food, are you mad? Pitts may be on your good side, but he would have my head if I even thought of stepping out of line.” Jae walked over to the food table, grabbed an armful of snacks with the hand that wasn’t sporting a drink, and walked back past Ophelia towards the boys’ dormitories, shooting her another large wink as he went. “Have a good night, Ophelia, I think you’ve earned it,” he called before disappearing up the staircase. Ophelia watched him go for another second, seriously considering to just run up the stairs and join him and Ben in the peace of the boy’s dormitory. However, after a moment’s hesitation, she decided to trust her friends’ advice and make the most of the party, even if they had already decided not to. She dived into the heart of the crowd to find her friends again, and maybe top off her drink.

She ran into Rowan near the food table, where she was talking animatedly to both of the Gryffindor beaters about professional league bat quality. She dropped the conversation immediately when she saw Ophelia approaching, and pulled her in close. The two fell into an easy side-long embrace as Rowan returned to continue her discussion with the beaters. She looked grateful to see Ophelia in a considerably more relaxed state than she had been before they entered the common room, and Ophelia could vaguely smell a little bit of fruity cinnamon on her breath.

“Ro, have you been drinking?” Ophelia laughed, gesturing to Rowan’s almost entirely filled cup. Rowan blushed and shook her head.

“Tulip poured me a whole cup, and I tried some, but I didn’t like it,” she said, looking sad that a whole cup of drink had gone to waste at her expense. She caught sight of Ophelia’s nearly empty cup, and with nonverbal confirmation, tipped the entirety of her cup into Ophelia’s. Ophelia took a long swig in appreciation.

Ophelia stood at Rowan’s side while she continued to enthusiastically discuss beater-centric fouls. She was comfortable, but not really engaging in the conversation, her mind wandering around the room while she continued to consume the delicious spiked punch.

Over a few nearby heads, she spotted an unmistakable orange ponytail, and released herself from Rowan’s hold. Rowan let her go without resistance, waving vaguely as Ophelia ran off to entertain herself elsewhere.

“Charlie! Oi, Weasley!” Ophelia called, making her way towards the seeker, who was surrounded by a gaggle of 2nd year girls begging for the play-by-play experience. Charlie grinned when he saw her coming and detached himself from the clamoring crowd, looking grateful to have literally anybody else to talk to. Ophelia collided with him, offering him a one-armed hug in greeting as she did.

“Charlieeeeee” she said in an exaggeratedly giddy voice. She could say without question that she was definitely having a pretty good time.

“Opheeeelia” Charlie echoed in a similar tone, although he seemed considerably less inebriated than Ophelia was. She had lost track of how much she had drunk so far, and her cup had somehow become empty again. Charlie pulled back from the hug and regarded her at arm’s length, although his hand still rested on her shoulder when he saw that she might not be entirely stable. She laughed

“Is that Bill’s sweater?” he asked, eyeing up the large W on her front with amusement.

“What? No! It’s W for Weasley, to support you!” Ophelia said enthusiastically, plucking at the hem of the sweater for emphasis. “You were fantastic today, by the way,” she added, punching his shoulder affectionately. “You really had us going with that dive, we thought you got hit!”

“I did get hit, actually. Rath is one hell of a beater,” Charlie said sheepishly, rubbing his arm where Ophelia had punched him. He winced a little as he did so, even though Ophelia hadn’t hit him that hard. Ophelia’s eyes widened in horror at the pain she had unintentionally inflicted on him.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay!?” Ophelia cried, reaching out helplessly as if her guilt could mend the damage, but Charlie laughed her off.

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse on the pitch, and if I get that job in Romania with dragons, it definitely won’t be the last bashing I ever deal with. Besides, the bludger barely nicked me, but if it hadn’t distracted me from where I was looking, I wouldn’t have seen the snitch near the ground, so it all shakes out,” he chuckled, and Ophelia relaxed again.

“You should be more careful out there, who knows who I’ll have to turn to next time I need to face a cursed dragon. I’d be so screwed without you,” she said, draining the final contents of her cup. Charlie went a little red at the praise.

“You’re one to talk about being careful,” Charlie said, ruffling her short hair. Ophelia giggled at the contact, enjoying the sensation, but felt a little disappointed as he pulled his hand back and shoved it deep in his pocket. The contents of her drink were putting her in a really good mood, and she felt so much more at ease than she had in weeks, if not months. Ben and Jae had been right, and she would be sure to thank them later.

Charlie suddenly twisted as someone on the other side of the room called his name, then turned back to Ophelia with an apologetic grimace. “I’ve got to go, it looks like some 4th years are getting dangerously close to the punch, and I guess I am their prefect,” he said, nodding towards the source of the trouble.

“Go tend to your wards,” Ophelia tittered, shooing him off. “Again, great game today, you were brilliant. You’re brilliant!” she called as he walked away. Charlie smiled over his shoulder one last time before being absorbed by the party. Ophelia watched him blend back into the crowd, smiling blissfully as he went. The butterflies in her stomach were going rampant again, and for a minute Ophelia was in such a happy daze that she didn’t even register what they meant. Then her smile faded, her eyes widened, and she dove into the party after Charlie.

“Penny!” Ophelia cried, throwing herself into a very surprised Penny’s arms. “Penny I need to talk to you about something!” Ophelia said, straightening up and bracing herself against the wall where Penny was standing. She was starting to feel a little dizzy and was slowly losing her high.

“Ophelia, what’s wrong, what happened?” Penny asked, genuinely concerned by the state of her intoxicated friend. Ophelia leaned forward so that only Penny would be able to hear her voice, but ended up leaning against her shoulder a bit. Penny adjusted her posture so that she could support Ophelia properly, who had made herself comfortable in the crook of Penny’s neck.

“Penny, I was talking to Merula the other day. Like, a month ago maybe,” Ophelia said, focusing very hard on keeping her story chronological, but the details were becoming fuzzy. “She told me I had a crush on Charlie, and I thought she was crazy, because I don’t like Charlie. He’s my mate, but it’s not like that.” She hiccupped a little bit, her eyes now darting around the party to relocate Charlie, as though seeing him would help to add accuracy to her tale. “But then… Penny she’s right, I _do_ like Charlie, I think. He’s smart and funny and kind and his orange hair and his freckles-“

“Wait, Charlie Weasley?” Penny asked incredulously, looking down at Ophelia with a slight sense of alarm. Ophelia nodded but didn’t stop listing all of her newfound appreciations for the boy. “Ophelia…” she said hesitantly.

“Penny I’m in so much troubleeeee,” Ophelia said, giggling a little into Penny’s neck before hiccupping again. “When I look at him my stomach gets all fluttery and it succckkkssss but I think I really do like him. What should I do? I should tell him, right?” Ophelia looked at Penny, her blue eyes wide and searching for answers. Ophelia seemed decided in her actions, and tried to lift herself off of Penny to tell Charlie about her newly discovered feelings. Penny quickly grabbed Ophelia by the elbow and steered her away from the party and back towards the portrait hole.

“Penny, where are we going?” Ophelia asked, not resisting the change in direction but definitely confused by the turn of events. Penny sighed deeply, helping her tipsy friend out of the portrait hole and onto the landing.

“You need some water and some rest, I think you’ve partied enough for the night,” Penny said, gently guiding her friend up towards Ravenclaw Tower.

“You won’t tell anyone, right? I’m still figuring it out, and I don’t want anyone to know or get upset. Especially Charlie.” Ophelia hummed, now very dizzy from the several winding staircases.

“Your secret is absolutely safe with me,” Penny confirmed, easily answering the riddle that Ophelia was in no state to attempt. “After what you did for Beatrice, I would keep any secret for you, no matter what.” She guided Ophelia up towards the girls’ dormitories and deposited her on the other side of the door.

Ophelia peeked her head out before Penny could completely close it off to give Ophelia some privacy. Her eyes were wide and pleading. “You promise?” Ophelia asked.

“Absolutely,” Penny said sincerely, placing a hand firmly on the door to shut it before Ophelia attempted to escape and cause any damage.

“Okay, cool. Thanks. Also Jacob’s back.” Ophelia closed the door completely with a sharp snap. Penny stood catatonic in the hallway outside, her face twisted in shock as she processed what she had just heard. After a few minutes, she sighed with resignation and headed back towards the party. All things considered, it wasn’t really the most shocking thing she had heard from Ophelia that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm officially out of content i wrote in november, so further updates might take a bit longer bc i actually have to write them (gross). also this fic got more attention that i expected of it and i'm super grateful for people's support both here and on tumblr <3 you guys are the best


	16. Harsh Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now you're on the other side of the room  
>  But I get this funny feeling that tonight is gonna be  
> Much better than it's been, ooh  
> _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its later than previous chapters but its also a long one (ya girl doesn't know how to manage her time OR edit concisely). hope u nerds like angst and dueling scenes.

“You haven’t been practicing, Fawley,” Snape drawled.

“No, I have, really!” Ophelia gasped, clutching to a nearby table for support. “I can cast nonverbally!” They had been at this legilimency lesson for nearly an hour, and Snape had gone straight into this session full force, giving Ophelia no chance to brace herself for the onslaught. She had initially managed to block him out by filling her head with a sterile white space, but every time she managed to resist, he pushed even harder, forcing her to relive worse and worse memories. Snape sneered at this comment.

“Your brother was able to use his abilities wandlessly and while simultaneously performing other magics by the time he was 13, what’s your excuse?”

“I’ve been really busy recently, in case news hasn’t reached the dungeons yet,” Ophelia said through gritted teeth, finally righting herself to her full height and steadying her wand. “I fought a dragon and saved the school last month, and wasn’t really devoting all my energy into closing off my mind while doing that.”

“Your misadventures are none of my concern, and should not have conflicted with the very simple assignment you were given. Focus!” Snape pointed his wand at Ophelia once more.

Ophelia’s vision flashed white, and suddenly she was flat on her on the cold cobblestone of the courtyard, unable to move, a red cloaked figure staring down at her. _Death is coming to Hogwarts, Ophelia Fawley._ She heard herself scream, and the memory dissolved, although judging by the continued sensation of cold stone against her skin, she had collapsed again. Snape’s face twisted in disgust.

“Lazy…” he muttered, watching Ophelia struggle to collect herself again.

“Is there another way I can learn this, other than you hitting me as hard as possible? Can’t we work our way up from memories that are less painful, or study theory for a bit?” She was close to tears at this point, but more from frustration and anger rather than pain or anguish.

“You are lucky to be able to practice with a master, rather than be left to your own devices or study theory, both methods I’m sure would yield no success from you.” Ophelia had hardly risen from the ground before Snape had brandished his wand again. “If you are looking for a change, you should know that reliving your suffering is not the only way someone can exploit your vulnerabilities. Legilimens!” The room around Ophelia melted again as she was thrown back into the delves of her own psyche, experiencing her memories in such detail and vividness that it was as though they were happening in real time.

Opening the letters from Bill as soon as possible, a feeling of warmth spreading as she reads his familiar scrawl across the paper, taking time out of his busy day to send her scraps of advice and reassurance. She misses him so much, and wishes he would write more. But she knows she’s a burden.

Watching Merula be thrown aside by the dragon tail in the pitch black vault, flying through the air, broken, like a ragdoll tossed by a petulant toddler. In this moment, Ophelia doesn’t care about the dragon, R, or her brother. She wants to know that Merula is okay. In this moment, against all odds, Ophelia considers Merula a friend she can’t bear to lose.

Looking into the enchanted mirror in the empty classroom, Jacob standing at her side in her reflection. He’s 23 years old, not a scratch on his face, smiling easily while she stares at him in awe. She turns away from the mirror to look next to her where her brother should be in the reflection, and sees Jacob standing at her side, just like in the mirror. But Jacob is 16, ghostly pale, his hair almost black from lack of exposure to natural light, and his eyes are closed as though he’s trapped in an eternal sleep. Ophelia shakes him frantically, but he doesn’t wake up. He crumples to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Jacob is lying in a hospital bed in the sterile white ward at St. Mungos. Ophelia’s mother is wailing in anguish in a chair next to the bed, while a healer looks on with a sense of emotional detachment. The healer tells them that Jacob is never waking up, he spent too long in the vault, he’s gone forever. How would the family like to proceed?

Ophelia was back on the floor, crying hard now as the images faded away. It took her a minute to realize that the memories she had just experienced weren’t real at all. It had felt like a nightmare, where at the time she had been so sure this was something she had experienced. She looked up at Snape with bloodshot eyes.

“Those weren’t my memories,” she spat, now properly angry.

“They were your vulnerabilities,” Snape responded with matching resentment. “They weren’t experiences that already hurt you, that you've already recovered from. They were your fears and insecurities, things that can be built up, used against you, even acted on in order to really hurt you.”

Ophelia didn’t respond, sobbing softly on the floor of the potions classroom, unable to bring herself to her feet for another round. Snape watched her sniffle pathetically for a few minutes, but when she refused to get up, he turned and headed towards his office.

“Don’t bother returning until you have a better hold on your emotions.” The door slammed behind him, and it took several minutes more before Ophelia found the strength to pull herself to her feet and leave the classroom.

*

Ophelia knew she looked like a wreck, and still felt emotionally raw. She wasn’t especially eager to get back to Ravenclaw Tower, but she also wanted to put some distance between herself and the dungeons. After some time of aimless wandering, either subconsciously or purely through muscle memory, she found herself in front of the portrait on the first landing that had imprisoned Beatrice Haywood for over a year.

The painting had depicted a barren, gray landscape when Beatrice had been trapped inside, but now that the curse was broken, it had reverted back to its original image of a 14th century wizard looking down at her disdainfully. Every other portrait that had previously held a student had also returned to its previous state, removing all traces of the curse from the Grand Staircase. The painted subjects that had been displaced had no recollection for the duration of the calamity, nor that their canvases had become portals to a cursed liminal space between realities.

Even after the curse had been broken, students could still be found loitering around the paintings that used to contain trapped students. Ophelia didn’t know whether they were trying to get information out of the portraits, or if they were trying to trigger the circumstances of the curse again. Ophelia didn’t really care. She left the Grand Staircase, feeling the affected portraits watch her as she went.

Ophelia eventually made her way to the clocktower courtyard, although she hadn’t really intended to make it outside the castle. It was bitterly cold, and her exposed skin burned as the icy wind whipped against it. Nevertheless, she accepted this, as she was desperate for any change of scenery and some fresh air. The courtyard was gratefully unoccupied, leaving the area entirely to herself. It had starting to rain again, and any student in their right mind would prefer to spend the Sunday afternoon in front of a fire rather than out here.

Hating the rain but not yet so eager to stay inside, Ophelia walked under the cloisters that lined the perimeter of the courtyard. She was safe from the rain, but the wind still continued to beat harshly at her face and hair, sending a chill down her back as she walked with her chin tucked down and hands shoved deep into her pockets. The longer she slowly walked in this loop around the courtyard, the more she felt herself calm down. The false memories and exposed vulnerabilities had settled to the back of her mind, and for the first time that afternoon, she really did feel emotionally numb and mentally blank. She was sure that her eyes and face showed telltale signs of a tearful breakdown, but maybe she could attribute that to the chilly gust and rain if anyone asked.

“Ophelia, mi querida!” she heard from behind her, and turned with a forced smile on her face to see Diego approaching her from down the open-air corridor. His hair and complexion was somehow still perfect despite the weather.

“Hey Caplan” Ophelia responded, trying her best to sound cordial. He responded with a bright smile and jogged to catch up with her.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he grew closer.

“I’m fine, really, I just had this lesson today-“

“No, no, I meant why haven’t you been at the Dueling Club? We’ve been missing our Ravenclaw coach,” Diego cut her off, apparently taking no notice of her blotched skin and bloodshot eyes. “Our match is coming up soon, and I was so looking forward to our long-awaited face-off,” He added, shooting her a wink and a smile that seemed to sparkle despite the complete lack of direct sunlight. Ophelia sighed, figuring it might be best to be honest in this case, rather than come up with an weak excuse he could work around.

“Honestly, Diego, I’ve been really burned out for a while. I was struggling to work with Merula, I have no idea how you do it regularly, then I was nearly killed by a dragon and that R lunatic in the vault, and now I’ve fallen behind on my schoolwork. Everyone is always staring at me and talking about me even when they know I can tell, it’s like I’m simultaneously the most visible and invisible person in school. I didn’t think I could handle the responsibility and commitment of the club on top of everything else, and I didn’t want to wait and see what would happen when I eventually collapsed under the pressure. In short… I think I’m quitting,” she said with a final huff, looking up at him apologetically. She did feel bad about the decision, and knew that she was letting a lot of people down. She had hoped that by just not showing up, her absence would be less missed than if she had formally resigned. Diego looked genuinely concerned and disappointed at her words, but stroked his chin in thought when she finished.

“Ophelia, I think your problem is that you’re always fighting, when you should be dancing.”

“I don’t think I have time for dancing club either. I have 2 left feet and one of them was recently broken.” Ophelia said. She shook her affected foot to show it off, but Madam Pomfrey’s handiwork had erased all signs of injury.

“No, I meant metaphorically,” Diego laughed. “You are treating everything in your life as a battle, when you should relax a little more, and just go with the flow. Life is already so difficult, and seeing everything as a fight will wear you out and break you down. You should stop resisting against the pressures of life and learn to move in sync with them.”

“That sounds much easier said than done,” Ophelia said skeptically.

“It’s a way of life, and like most things it takes time and perseverance to adopt. But I’ve found that I enjoy life much more, and I greet everything I do with energy and passion. Your struggles are not your rival, Ophelia, but your partner.” He took her hand and twirled her on the spot, and Ophelia giggled, feeling sincerely lifted by his sage advice.

“Those are surprisingly wise words coming from a man who I’ve only ever heard flirt when he opens his mouth” Ophelia said, releasing his hand when she had stopped spinning.

“What can I say, I am a man of many hats and am always full of surprises,” Diego bowed to her. “So have I possibly changed your mind? Will I be seeing you at Dueling club this week.”

“We’ll see,” Ophelia said, grinning despite herself.

“So definitely yes?” Diego said, starting to walk quickly back down the cloister to disallow her the opportunity to refuse him.

“Definitely maybe!” Ophelia called to his retreating figure, and he responded with a hearty laugh before turning a corner and disappearing into the castle.

*

“I knew you would show up! I suppose I really am just that irresistible,” Diego exclaimed gleefully the second Ophelia walked into the Dueling Club room 3 days later. Now that she was no longer tasked with escorting students to safety every hour, she had managed to show up much earlier than usual, and the room wasn’t yet crowded with participants. Ophelia had spent most of the last 3 days taking Diego’s advice to heart, and had decided to embrace her responsibilities. Besides, she still had plenty of pent-up frustration from her failed legilimancy class, and maybe dueling head-to-head would be a good outlet for her.

The board on the wall that had outlined the assigned pairs for the dueling tournament had been edited considerably since she had stopped attending. Nearly a third of the names had been crossed out, and new brackets had been drawn out to match up the winners. Ismelda had bested Jae, Tulip had unsurprisingly defeated Ben, and Charlie had beaten Andre. She was admittedly a little disappointed that she had missed those duels, as she was sure that all of them would have been interesting, if not very amusing, to watch. She saw with a leap of excitement that she hadn’t returned a day too soon, as she and Diego were among those to face off that meeting.

“I’d say I’m a little out of practice, but I’m sure you know better,” Ophelia said, nodding towards her name written on the board.

“I know better than to underestimate you,” Diego responded with a small laugh.

“How did those matches go? I missed them,” she said, pointing towards the 3 matches her friends had already completed. Diego peered at the names she was gesturing to, and then grinned enthusiastically.

“Oh, you missed some really fantastic fights during your sabbatical. The Jae-Ismelda duel was actually really crazy. A lot of people thought Jae was just going to roll over and let Ismelda win so he wouldn’t have to do any extra work, but he really put his all into that fight. Defense Against the Dark Arts has always been his best class, but we had no idea that he was that good at fighting. I guess when you’re hanging around Knockturn Alley that much, you need to be ready to defend yourself. Unfortunately, his sneak attacks weren’t powerful enough against Ismelda’s aggression, so he lost to her. Same thing sort of happened with Ben and Tulip. Ben really tried his hardest and landed a couple really powerful charms. We thought Tulip was going to go down several times, but Ben is a predominantly defensive dueler, and most of Tulip’s moves were faster and cleverer than he could anticipate. He went down like a hero, though.” Diego chuckled to himself as he reminisced fondly on the duels, his eyes glazing a little as though he were replaying them in his mind like a film.

“What about Charlie and Andre?” Ophelia pressed, trying to not sound too eager. She was still struggling with her newfound feelings, and had focused most of her energy on repressing them as much as she could. Parts of the Gryffindor victory party were blurry, and she was sure she had said something to Penny, but gratefully Ophelia had heard nothing through the grapevine, so Penny must have kept her secret safe.

“That one was also surprising, but in a different way,” Diego mused. “Andre is, as Professor Dordee would say, very invested in his style and how he looks when fighting, whereas Charlie is more spontaneous and reflexive. The problem is, they’re both very defensive fighters, and went most of the duel without landing a single hit on the other. Everyone thought the showdown between two of Hogwarts’ best athletes would be a sight to behold, but there have been duels between first years that were faster and more fun to watch. Charlie managed to inch out Andre, but just barely. They were just too well matched, too similar. They both might have fared better against different opponents. I’m sure that we are just as well matched, but I look forward to giving the crowd a show when I duel against you, Ophelia.”

Ophelia grinned at the thought of the overpowered stalemate, more regretful than ever that she had been absent for those duels. Maybe she would get to witness a rematch between her friends sometime after the tournament ended. She continued to look over the board, reading off the names of the students slated to go against each other. The Dueling Club had yet to witness Barnaby vs. Merula, Talbott vs. Tonks, and Penny vs. Rowan.

“You’re back!” a voice cried from the entrance. Ophelia turned to see that Tonks had just walked through the doorway, and as she rushed forward to welcome Ophelia, Penny, Tulip, and Rowan followed in shortly behind her.

“I was taking a break, but Diego missed me, so he dragged me back” Ophelia said, patting Diego on the shoulder.

“On the contrary, Ophelia missed me so much that she couldn’t resist my thrall,” Diego said, but Penny laughed openly at this. Ophelia flushed, thinking maybe Penny was laughing about how Ophelia’s affections definitely lay elsewhere, but then it occurred to her that Penny had been dealing with Diego’s flirtatious antics for four more years than she had. It was a wonder anyone took his advances seriously at this point.

As more people began to arrive at the meeting, it became clear that Ophelia’s presence had been sorely missed, but fortunately most people had the better sense to not ask her why she had been missing meetings. Ophelia was sure that most everyone in the castle had some idea of what had gone down in the vault with the dragon and the R agent, but Penny and Rowan had assured Ophelia that they had done a fair amount of damage control while she was recovering. The stares and murmurs were ever-present, but at least she was left alone.

“Thank you all for coming tonight, let’s begin,” came Professor Dordee’s telltale quick-paced diction from the front of the room. “Tonight, we will continue to filter our older students into the tournament with a series of 6th-year matches. 3 of our 4 house coaches will be dueling today, so be sure to take notes on their experienced techniques. Mr. Lee and Miss Snyde, if you would be so kind.”

Professor Dordee hopped lightly off the raised platform to make way for Barnaby and Merula, who stepped onto the stage to rousing applause from most of the room. Ophelia had been told that they were on relatively good terms with each other again, but was acutely aware that the last time they had faced off like this was when Barnaby had helped hold Merula and Ismelda off while she accessed the Vault of Fear. She couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Merula, and wondered how she must be feeling to fight someone she has complicated sentiments towards.

Whatever emotional melodrama Ophelia was playing out in her head was clearly not the case. Both duelers had put aside any relationships they had, amicable or otherwise, to put their all into the competitive natures. They had both started fighting so fast that Ophelia nearly missed it.

Merula struck first, hitting hard before Professor Dordee had even finished the final countdown. Barnaby may have been all muscle, but he moved with the speed and agility of someone a fraction of his mass. Barnaby managed to defend against the spell, but the look of distress in his eyes suggested that he had definitely been caught off-guard by her quick attack. Merula was unphased by his defenses and continued to hit him with a barrage of aggressive spells, shooting them so quickly that it was difficult to tell what spells they even were. Barnaby finally managed to get a good shot in, and hit her square in the shoulder. Merula was knocked back several feet, and she momentarily ceased fire while she steadied herself. For a second, it looked as though Barnaby had found an opening to take her down, but he hesitated for a second too long. Merula, clutching her shoulder with her spare hand, let out a scream of rage and lunged forward, shooting a fresh bombardment of offensive spells. Barnaby was only able to hold his own for a few more seconds before he was knocked backwards completely.

“And that is a victory for Miss Snyde,” Professor Dordee announced, gesturing towards Merula, who was still standing over Barnaby with fire in her eyes. The room seemed divided on their feelings of the outcome, as many had been rooting for Barnaby, and many more had suffered extensive bullying at Merula’s hand. For a moment, it looked as though Merula might strike again despite her decided triumph, but then the fire faded, and she helped pull a still somewhat stunned Barnaby to his feet. As the two stepped off the platform, Merula covertly high-fived Diego, who looked incredibly proud of his protege.

“I was hoping Barnaby would win,” Rowan muttered disappointedly at Ophelia’s side as Barnaby took his position next to Charlie and Andre several feet away. He personally didn’t seemed too upset by the loss.

“Merula’s dueled a dragon, and fairly effectively at that,” Ophelia responded thoughtfully, watching as Tonks and Talbott detached themselves from the crowd to ascend the stage. Ophelia had also hoped Barnaby would win, as he was her friend and a good sport, but she couldn’t deny the pride she felt for Merula’s victory. She had never seen Merula duel so aggressively and agilely before, and for the first time ever, she grew apprehensive for the next time Merula demanded a rematch.

“Wands at the ready,” Professor Dordee instructed. Tonks and Talbott took their opposing stances. In terms of unlikely but well-matched pairs, she had to give credit to Professor Dordee for this one. Both Talbott and Tonks had aspirations to become aurors and took dueling very seriously. However, this match seemed to be bringing out a previously unseen side of each dueler. Tonks’ hair was shifting from bubblegum pink to an almost blinding neon hue, and determination was etched on her usually carefree face. In contrast, Talbott was grinning impishly, his demeanor somewhere between smug and downright egotistical. The grin on his face was enough to confuse and concern those in the crowd who had never seen him so much as smile, but Tonks remained resilient, her expression stony.

“And go!”

Both Tonks and Talbott nonverbally fired spells at exactly the same time, resulting in a blinding clash of sparks in the space between them. Neither landed a hit, but those closest to the stage jumped back in shock at the explosive start. Neither dueler hesitated, and circled each other in almost mirrored movements as they slung spell after spell at each other. Most of them collided in the middle, several missed their mark due to the constant shifts in position, and there was so much commotion that it was difficult to tell when a spell had even hit.

Suddenly, Tonks ducked and retreated to the end of the dueling platform. She was now too far for either of them to make any accurate point-plank shots, and the continual barrage of smoke, sparks, and lights distracted from her retreat. Then, from the depths of the smoke, a giant dungbomb was lobbed across the platform, flew through the air, and exploded against Talbott’s shin.

Those who had braved through the bedlam near the center of the platform rapidly retreated into the crowds, retching violently as every horrible scent imaginable permeated the room. Talbott, at the epicenter of the explosion, received the worst of it, and toppled over almost immediately, overcome with disgust and nausea from the proximity. Tonks reemerged triumphantly from the smoke and green-tinted fumes, her wand pointed at Talbott’s fallen form. Where her long nose usually sat on her face was a flat expanse of skin, rendering herself immune to the incapacitating stench.

“Fantastic! Ingenious, intuitive, resourceful, and unexpected. Easily one of the best duels we’ve seen yet! 10 points to Hufflepuff.” Professor Dordee exclaimed excitedly as he climbed back up to the stage and held Tonk's hand aloft. He had cast a bubble-head charm on himself to protect himself from the smell, leaving his voice and face a little distorted. Tonks beamed proudly, although the complete lack of nose between her wide smile and dark eyes was very unsettling.

After several minutes of clearing the air, during which Talbott still looked very ill and a little catatonic from the experience, the room became habitable again, and the meeting resumed. Penny and Rowan braved the stage, both of their noses still wrinkled from the memory of what had just transpired. Ophelia was entranced watching two of her best friends ready themselves. She knew that neither of them were particularly strong duelers, as their strengths each lay in decidedly less antagonistic fields. Whatever advantage Rowan had in encyclopedic knowledge of spells, she made up for with a lack of aggression and combative instinct. Penny, in contrast, was well versed in dueling potions and had an uncanny knack for reading people, but was so considerate and fearful of harming her friends that it was unlikely she would be able to land an impactful blow on her opponent. She had brought both of them into cursed vaults before, and knew they were capable of fighting under pressure, but they were also usually the first to go down, and she doubted they would be able to recreate that confrontational state of mind in such a controlled environment.

The duel began almost exactly as Ophelia had anticipated. Penny and Rowan circled each other similarly to how Tonks and Talbott had done, but both hesitated to strike first. It seemed as though each person was waiting to see how the other would cast before deciding how they would react. After several silent, tense, and fairly awkward seconds of this, Rowan suddenly shot a disarming charm at Penny. Penny cried and ducked, successfully dodging the spell and keeping a hold on her wand. From her position near the ground, she shot a stunning spell towards Rowan, who easily blocked it and sent it reverberating back in Penny’s direction. Unable to get to her feet in time and dodge, Penny was hit by her own stunning spell and fell back to the ground. Fortunately, she didn’t have far to fall, and the landing was gratefully soft. Rowan paused, looking a little confused by her sudden and somewhat unintentional victory, but the room slowly filled with approving applause. Rowan blushed at the attention and rushed to help Penny to her feet, and the two hopped off the stage together before Professor Dordee had even made his way up to commemorate them.

“Thank you Miss Khanna, Miss Haywood, that was a brief, albeit informative demonstration. Our final match for the night will be the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff coaches, Miss Fawley and Mr. Caplan respectively. The room erupted into enthusiastic applause, louder than any dueling pair had received so far. Ophelia sheepishly made her way to the stage, backed by overzealous cheers from her circle of friends. Diego walked alongside her, his head raised high in contrast and smiling at the adoring audience. They each took their stances on either end of the stage. It had admittedly been a while since Ophelia had actually dueled anyone in a casual setting. She probably hadn’t had an audience like this since the first time she dueled Merula in the courtyard during her first year, but Diego seemed perfectly within his element. Advantage Caplan. Professor Dordee still stood between them, counting down. Ophelia watched Diego’s dark eyes bore into her’s, and she was struck by a sudden idea.

_Legilimens_

With her wand outstretched but the incantation performed silently, she found herself listening to Diego’s thoughts as though he were saying them loudly and clearly to the entire room. Judging by Diego and Professor Dordee’s unchanging stance, her spell had gone entirely unnoticed by anyone.

_“Aggressive, no, defensive, no, distraction! Be spontaneous, don’t plan. I can look good while being spontaneous. Ok, aggressive shot first. No wait, sneaky, in case she anticipates aggressive and goes on the defensive, no-“_

Ophelia had been so distracted by Diego’s inner monologue that she had missed Professor Dordee’s countdown and been immediately assaulted by a flash-bang charm. She coughed and ducked, wand at the ready but pointed completely in the wrong direction. It had certainly been an impulsive move, as she hadn’t anticipated it from reading Diego’s thoughts. She responded with several quickfire stunning spells, which Diego dodged and defended against with ease before returning fire. After a moment, the two found themselves facing each other in silence, waiting as Rowan and Penny had done for the other to strike first.

_“She’s on the aggressive, my best strategy is to match aggression or go defensive, but she might be anticipating defensive and go for a sneak attack, but she might be anticipating that and stay aggressive-“_

Ophelia’s wand was suddenly nonverbally expelled from her hand, and she lunged to catch it again before it fell too far out of her reach. She supposed she could credit Olivia with honing her reflexes, but she was also loathe to credit Olivia with anything. She jumped up and retreated down the stage while Diego shot several more spells at her, trying to knock her over while she was down and distracted. It was now very obvious that her legilimancy was actually useless against Professor Dordee’s encouraged method of spontaneity, and from a first-hand experience she could fully appreciate why. Reading her opponents mind served as more of a distraction than an advantage, and as a result she had so far been slow to react and caught off guard by sudden attacks.

Throwing all caution to the wind, she began to fire at Diego, slinging the first spells that came to her head without thinking further. Stupefy. Petrificus Totalus, Impedimenta. Expelliarmus. Rictusempra. Langlock. She felt as though she was breezing through a 3rd-year DADA study guide, but her change in approach was working, and the effect was instantaneous. Diego, caught off guard by her rapid and unexpected casting, no longer had the upper hand, and was jumping, dodging, and defending a quickly as he could to avoid being hit. He seemed entirely unsure of how to react to her, and Ophelia didn’t need to read his mind again to know that he was overthinking a strategy to gain an advantage. She was unknowable, deceptive, and impulsive and she continued to fire spells with reckless abandon. She finally managed to land a particularly powerful Tarantallegra before Diego could move to block, and his legs immediately began to kick out in all directions of their own volition. Unable to control his movements and maintain focus, Diego quickly lost his balance, and Ophelia knocked him down with one final Flippendo, securing the victory to uproarious applause.

“Victory to Miss Fawley!” Dordee announced, reclaiming the stage. Ophelia reached down to help Diego up to his feet, although his legs were still twitching a bit.

“I was worried you were going easy on me there,” he muttered as Professor Dordee addressed the club with his closing announcements. “That wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. But I think we really did put on a show.” Ophelia grinned at him.

“I’m a little rusty, but still have some tricks up my sleeve,” she responded with a sly wink. Rather than look discouraged, Diego looked immeasurably proud of his opponent. He took her hand and raised it high, as Dordee had done with Tonks, and the room continued to cheer excitedly as they filed out to their dormitories for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you're enjoying this work, have any questions, complaints, comments, or concerns, feel free to drop a comment!! I will definitely read them, cry deeply, and then respond as best I can. If you want to see more of my art and writing, check out https://cokebottlesanddenim.tumblr.com/tagged/origart


	17. Thursday's Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Something about me stood apart  
>  A whisper of hope that seemed to fail  
> Maybe I'm born right out of my time  
> Breaking my life in two  
> _

Now that the weight of the portrait curse had been lifted from Ophelia’s shoulders, time seemed to pass by her in a blur. It felt as though only yesterday she had braced herself for death on Halloween night, but in a blink November was basically over. The last of the autumn lights had abandoned Scotland, and the castle was now plunged into perpetual grey skies, chilled winds, and heavy rain. Maybe it was the monotony of the weather that made time seem to pass so quickly, but Ophelia knew better. The knowledge that Jacob was alive and recovering in London occupied her every waking thought, distracting her from the world moving around her.

She was drawn back to reality by a very loud squelch, and looked down to see that her boot had suddenly sunk several inches into the thick mud underfoot. The rain continuing to beat overhead made the extraction especially trying, and the crowd around her was so desperate to get back to the warmth and dryness of the castle that she was at risk of being pushed over and toppling into the muck. She had evidentially lost her friends somewhere in the crowd a while back, and found herself alone in the middle of the stampede to get off the grounds.

She was stabilized by a firm arm on her shoulder, and looked up to see Charlie steadying her in her gait, using his broad body as a shield. People were in turn forced to give Ophelia space and walk around her while she struggled to free herself from the mud. The quidditch game the school had just watched had been exciting, but no one wanted to stay in this weather for any longer than necessary. Ophelia felt as though she hadn't even been there at all. Her mind certainly hadn't been.

The expression on Charlie’s face as he regarded Ophelia’s dirtied shoe reflected how Ophelia felt about the situation, but he remained at her side until he was sure that Ophelia was freed and able to continue towards the castle. The longer he stood resolutely at her side, the more Ophelia had to force herself not to blush. She hadn't talked to Charlie at all since the Gryffindor party, fruitlessly hoping that keeping her distance from him would give herself a chance to get over the complicated feelings she had recently discovered. After several seconds of wiggling to no avail, Charlie finally put his arms on either side of her body in an awkward hug and pulled her upright, freeing her from the earth with another unpleasant squelch.

“Thanks," Ophelia mumbled, grateful but still bashful for the trouble she had caused him and those around them. She quickly took a step forward, eager to get out of the rain and away from the muddy grounds. Charlie walked alongside her, easily matching her eager stride.

"That was one hell of a game!" Charlie said enthusiastically. He didn't seem as bothered by the rain, and was grinning despite the cold water dripping down his face from his drenched hair. To be fair, Charlie was an athlete, and had played in worse weather himself. It would take a lot more than a little rain to ruin his mood during a quidditch match. "Andre wasn't kidding when he said the team was training harder than ever. Even against the wind they were able to keep their formations." 

Ophelia nodded, mentally pushing herself to remember as much of the game as possible to contribute to the conversation. She was sure that if anyone had paid attention to her during the game, she would have looked catatonic while her mind wandered off to Jacob's state. "Rowan played really well. I've seen every match she's been in and it still throws me off when I see her hauling a bat half her weight," Ophelia chuckled. Rowan was an extremely capable beater. Her upbringing on a tree farm had granted her access to some of the best racing brooms in the industry from a young age, and she had spent much of her childhood entertaining herself by hitting things with stray branches. That, combined with her knack for strategy, timing, quick-thinking, and protective nature made her a force to be reckoned with on the pitch. 

"Yeah, but did you see that sloth-grip save Andre pulled? I doubt even our keeper would be willing to pull a move like that in perfect weather," Charlie continued, going on to describe his favorite moments from the game in rapturous detail. Ophelia nodded noncommittally. She honestly couldn't remember the exact moments in the game that Charlie was referencing, but maybe she could write it off as poor visibility rather than blatant inattention. The only part of the game she could distinctly recall was when the Ravenclaw seeker had caught the snitch, securing a tight 210-180 victory. For the first time in her quidditch-watching experience, she could say with confidence that the game had gone on for entirely too long. If she hadn't been there to loyally support Andre and Rowan, she would have considered leaving long before the game ended.

Charlie seemed to have finally taken note of her absent-minded silence, and was watching her with concern while Ophelia silently marched onwards with her eyes dead ahead. Ophelia could feel his gaze like a scorching ray against the side of her face, but she continued walking as though he wasn’t there. She didn’t mean to be rude, and she knew it was coming off that way, but she was also acutely aware of every word and action she took towards him, and was desperate to not reveal any feelings prematurely. Charlie hummed as he watched her, his brow furrowed.

"Are you mad at me, Ophelia? Did I do something wrong?" He sounded genuinely concerned, and the hint of unjustified remorse in his voice was enough for Ophelia to finally turn to face him, her eyes wide and apologetic.

"What? No, Charlie, of course I'm not mad at you! I could never be mad at you," she said earnestly, placing a reassuring hand on his arm to assuage his worries. She was acutely aware of the firm muscles under his several layers of sweaters and jacket, and pulled her hand away a bit too quickly out of self-preservation. Charlie seemed consoled nonetheless, and smiled gratefully.

"That's good to hear, I'd hate to be on your bad side." He nudged her playfully, and Ophelia smiled weakly up at him, the butterflies in her stomach going rampant. She hated absolutely everything about how she was feeling right now, and could barely believe these emotions were supposed to be construed as positive. Nobody should be allowed to look this good and act this charming while treading through freezing rain. It was bad enough that he was ignoring all of those factors just to pay attention to her. "But even if I'm not the problem, I can tell there's something wrong. You've been off for nearly a month, and even more so since the Gryffindor game." Ophelia didn't respond; she wasn't entirely sure how to. After a beat, Charlie continued. "Is it your brother?"

"Yeah," Ophelia responded after another heavy pause. It was technically truthful, but Jacob's condition was still a well-kept secret. She was absolutely sure that the only people who knew were herself, her mother, Dumbledore, and the St. Mungo's staff tending to him. 

"I get it," Charlie responded sympathetically. "If something like that happened to any of my siblings I wouldn't know what to do with myself. And then like you said, he wasn't there in the vault, and you still don't know if he's okay..." They had reached the Entrance hall and had paused at the mouth to the Great Hall. The crowd around them continued to move past to get to lunch, and the chatter from beyond the doors nearly drowned out Filch's aggravated moans about the mud that the students had tracked in from the pitch. Ophelia wasn't particularly hungry, and she knew she didn't have the energy to match the school's post-match spirit. She was sure Charlie hadn't been the only person to notice that she had been mentally absent ever since the portrait vault. Her friends had probably assumed she was still reeling from the trauma, but Ophelia had long since moved past the nightmares and fear of dark corners. It was kind of them to give her space and politely ignore how unsociable she had become, but she was also very aware that she would have to return to reality eventually. She jumped, suddenly remembering that Charlie was still standing patiently at her side.

"Thanks, for eh... the mud," Ophelia said, gesturing vaguely towards her still dirty boots. Charlie grinned, but still hesitated at the door, waiting gallantly for her to go in first. "I'm going to go, actually. Potions homework. Might eat later." Ophelia took a step backwards, allowing herself to become partially consumed by the mob of students still streaming into the castle. Charlie opened his mouth as though to say something, but then shut it and nodded before going into the Great Hall. Ophelia turned and headed up the stairs. In truth, he had no such homework to speak of, but she was worried that if she spent any more time at Charlie's side she would explode. 

She was unexpectedly intercepted on the stairs by Professor Dumbledore, who smiled warmly at the sight of her.

"Ah, Ophelia, what luck, just the person I was looking for," he said, his mouth twitching upwards from behind his beard.

"Is it Jacob?" Ophelia asked a little too loudly with no preamble. She winced at the slight reverberation of her own voice, but the surrounding staircases were gratefully empty, and her excitement had gone otherwise unnoticed. Ophelia pursed her lips, aware that she had been indiscreet and a bit rude to her headmaster, but he seemed entirely unperturbed by her abrupt exclamation. Professor Dumbledore nodded and gestured wordlessly for her to follow him towards a perpendicular landing that led towards his office. Ophelia eagerly matched his pace, all thoughts of handsome ginger boys washed from her mind in an instant. She had actually seen very little of Dumbledore since her initial visit to St. Mungo’s, and Dumbledore had offered next to no inclination of Jacob's state since then. Although his current composure didn't suggest any particularly grave news, she knew better than to assume anything of him at face value.

The moment they entered the safe seclusion of Dumbledore's empty office, Ophelia unleashed the barrage of questions she had been holding back the entire walk up.

"Is he okay? He's still alive, right? Is my mum okay? What's happened? Did he wake up?" Dumbledore lead her directly to the familiar ornate fireplace and turned to face her.

“I am delighted to tell you that Jacob has woken up, and all of his cognitive facilities seem to be in order. Your mother is already at St. Mungos, and the healers have assured me that his condition is stable.” He smiled at Ophelia’s gasp of unrestrained delight. Before he could stop her, she had side-stepped him and positioned herself in the middle of the fireplace’s spacious flue, ready to finally see Jacob. When Dumbledore did not move towards the supply of Floo Powder, she paused, noting that there were clearly some other items Dumbledore wished to address before her departure.

“If he’s awake and stable, is he… you know… older? Older and taller?” She asked hesitantly. For the first time, Dumbledore’s brow furrowed, clearly still somewhat confused and frustrated by the situation.

“I’m afraid he is still in the state that he was when he was recovered from the portrait vault, although he has started aging at a natural pace again since his extraction. If I am to understand correctly, the two of you will be something like twins, being so alike in age.” Ophelia nodded, eyes wide and heart racing. Jacob’s age was honestly the least of her concerns. She had already gotten over the shock of his youthful state, and the only thoughts that occupied her mind at this moment were that he was alive and awake. She could finally talk to him, tell him that she missed him, hear that he was glad to be home, and have him back in her life. But she was getting ahead of herself. She continued to rock on the balls of her feet in the ashes, eager to be at Jacob’s side again, but Dumbledore continued to pause until Ophelia had stilled herself.

“Is there anything else, Professor?” Ophelia asked with as much restraint and courtesy that she could muster.

“There is one last thing to know before you are reunited, but I can assure you it is good news. Because of Miss Green’s hearing and sentence in conjunction with a full testimony from the ghost Duncan Ashe, your brother has been cleared of all charges placed against him at the time of his expulsion and disappearance. As such, he will be welcomed back as a student starting in the coming term, picking up his education where it was unfortunately cut short so many years ago. He will be joining you and your classmates as 6th years, and assuming he has maintained the sharp wit and intellect I recall him to possess, he should have no problems with being reintroduced to the curriculum.” He finally reached towards the satchel of floo powder and approached Ophelia. Ophelia was dumbstruck, overwhelmed by this information in conjunction with the Jacob’s recovery. Not only would he be back in her life as a brother, but he would be in her life as a classmate, a partner, a _friend._ She was so caught up in the giddiness, that she barely registered Dumbledore tossing a handful of powder at her feet until the flash of green flames began to lap harmlessly at her legs.

“Oh! St. Mungo’s Hospital!” she cried excitedly, and immediately she was swept up in a whirlwind of roaring green fire, then darkness, then bright white light.

St Mungo’s was exactly as she remembered it from her recent trip, but it had since been decorated lavishly in recognition of the upcoming holidays. Tinsel and garlands were adorned across the walls, and golden baubles hovered overhead, glowing softly in the grey light from the clerestories. Several members of staff had attached small sprigs of holly to the front of their lime green robes, although Ophelia felt, judging by their expressions and demeanors, that this wasn’t entirely voluntary.

“Ophelia Fawley?” An unfamiliar junior healer had approached her in the crowd almost as soon as she had stepped out of the fireplace, a clipboard in hand and a slightly askew sprig attached haphazardly to his cap. Ophelia nodded, and the junior healer lead her towards the elevators opposite them. The hospital seemed more crowded than it had been during her last visit, but also less chaotic. It was clear that, like her, most of the witches and wizards in the lobby were there as visitors, not patients. Much like her last visit, she was almost entirely ignored and unrecognized by other patrons of the hospital. At the very least, she was gratefully not wearing her school robes this time.

The door stopped with a small chime, and the young healer led her down the corridor towards the spell damage ward. Similarly to the lobby downstairs, the ward was decorated with yuletide cheer, even though most of the ward’s patients were entirely unresponsive and would be entirely unaware of the festive decorations. The second Ophelia stepped into the ward, she could pick out her mother’s carrying voice amidst the usual chatter from across the room, speaking rapidly to an unseen figure behind the drawn curtain. Before the healer could direct her further, Ophelia sprinted across the ward, nearly barreling into several other visitors, and skidded to a sharp halt next to her mother behind the curtain.

And there was Jacob. He was sitting upright, propped by several fluffy pillows. His hair was still dark and his skin nearly paper white from years of being trapped in a vault hundreds of feet underground, but his glasses were perched properly on his face. Behind them, his eyes were that familiar piercing bright blue, alert, and very much awake.

Before anyone had fully registered her presence, Ophelia leaped onto Jacob’s bed, practically tackling him with a hug 7 years in the making.

“Merlin, Ophelia, geddoff me,” Jacob said, struggling under her weight and squirming to push her away from him. His voice was very quiet and hoarse after years without use, but Ophelia could have cried with joy for hearing it again at all. She finally slid to the foot of his bed, despite Jacob’s protests, and faced her mother, who looked surprised and a little concerned about her daughter’s sudden attack on her son. Nonetheless, her face broke into a wide smile, and she stood to wrap Ophelia in a proper embrace. Before she had even sat back down again, Julie had already started speaking to Jacob again, catching him on 7 years of history gone by. Ophelia watched as Jacob made no move to contribute to the conversation, but rather sat patiently and listened intently to his mother speak, occasionally nodding or shrugging to imply a response. Finally, when she had paused for breath, Jacob turned towards Ophelia, addressing her in the same quiet voice.

“I hear you’ve been nothing but trouble since I left,” Jacob said. It wasn’t immediately clear whether he was playfully teasing her or maliciously deriding her; he’d always had the ability to keep his face unreadable, and now Ophelia could appreciate how that would reinforce his remarkable occlumency abilities. Ophelia responded with a sharp punch to his leg, which drew a much harsher wince and gasp from their mother than it did from Jacob. Jacob shot his mother a disparaging look; he was bedridden, but he wasn’t made of glass.

“I wouldn’t have been trouble if I hadn’t spent the last few years working to save your ass,” Ophelia shot back with a smirk, and her mother now whipped her attention to her daughter.

“Language! We’re in a hospital!” she hissed, glancing around to make sure that her children weren’t making as much of a scene as she was interpreting. “Stop fighting!”

“We’re not fighting, Mum, we’re catching up,” Jacob said barely above a whisper, and Ophelia nodded in agreement. Her reunion with Jacob hadn’t gone exactly as joyously and ecstatically as she had always thought it would, but she supposed it could be much worse. If anything, it felt as though she and Jacob had fallen right back into their old dynamic, but now they were on a level playing field. Well, as level as it could get, all things considered.

The same healer that had attended to Ophelia during her last visit rounded the curtain, and her face broke into a genuine smile at the sight of the reunited family.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us, Miss Fawley. Our patient has only been awake for a few hours, but it seems you received the news in a timely manner.” She was now looking over Jacob’s charts, continuing to smile as she made checks.

“I would have come earlier if I had known,” Ophelia said eagerly, looking between her mother, the healer, and her brother. “There was a quidditch match this morning, but I would have rather been here, to be honest.”

“Who won?” Jacob asked, his voice far more eager and attentive than she had heard it so far.

“Erm, Ravenclaw. It was tight, though. 210-180. We caught the snitch but our chasers lost steam really quickly.” Ophelia was surprised at his rapt interest in the school sports team. She’d never known him to care about sports as long as she had known him, but then again, she hadn’t really known him properly for very long. Surely there was more to him than conspiracies, curses, and secrets.

“That’s rubbish, when I was at school the Ravenclaw team would never let a game come that close. What idiot is captaining those idiots?” Jacob seemed genuinely irritated by the lacking quality of the quidditch team, and Ophelia couldn’t help but laugh, amazed that that was the first thing he had shown interest in after coming up from 7 years of cursed isolation.

“His name is Andre, and he’s my friend. You can express your dissatisfaction with him in person after the school holidays,” Ophelia said.

“Why am I going to see your mates after the holidays?” Jacob asked, his brow furrowed. There was a pregnant pause between the group, each exchanging glances with the other, unsure of what he knew and who should tell him.

“Jacob… you can come back to school. You’ve been cleared of all charges, you’re innocent.” Ophelia said. To her surprise, rather than look excited at this news, Jacob’s face screwed up even more, clearly lost in this information.

“I know I’m innocent, I was there. But I’m not going back to school. I’m 23, I’m too old to be a student. That’s not going to fly.” He gestured towards his body, as though it were outwardly obvious that he was far too old to go back to high school.

“Actually, that’s partially what I’m here to check up on,” the healer said brightly, now brandishing a rolled-up, unassuming-looking tape measure. With a quick flourish, it unfurled itself to the floor, before snaking its way up the bedframe and alongside Jacob’s blanket-covered form. It froze in place parallel to his silhouette before quickly rebounding into its original coiled position. The healer looked down at the reading, nodded, and made a note on the chart.

“What does it say?” Ophelia asked eagerly.

“16 years old. More precisely, 16 years, 1 month, and 11 days,” the healer replied. Jacob continued to look down at his body in confusion, but Ophelia jumped up.

“Oh, do me! How old am I?” she said excitedly, and the healer obligingly unrolled the tape measure again, allowing it to align itself next to Ophelia before rolling shut again.

“Exactly 16 years, 3 months, and 6 days, give or take a few hours. How fun, you two are like twins.”

“But I’m older!” Jacob protested indignantly, leaning forward in his bed.

“She just said I’m older,” Ophelia responded, giddy at the implications of her position as the older sibling.

“That’s bullshit!” Jacob said, louder than he had managed so far. His mother gasped again, but Ophelia nearly doubled over laughing. Jacob continued to frown at the healer, clearly finding this development far from amusing.

“It’s nothing a little aging potion can’t fix, but as you’re resuming your education where you left off, that will be unnecessary. You can do as you please when you turn 17 in June. The math doesn’t quiet line up, but that is legally your birthday. You’ll just physically be a few months off from the calendar.” The healer replaced the charts, still smiling at the trio behind the curtain. “That’s all I’m here for, do any of you have any question?”

“Yeah, why did I have to be conscious for nearly 8 bloody years and it means nothing? I put all of my time trying to crack these curses, and all I get from it is an extended adolescence? A traumatized adult mind trapped in the body of a boy? That’s bullshit! It’s a waste of everyone’s time.” Jacob sounded properly angry now, and Ophelia stopped laughing. Despite the quietness and roughness in his voice, he sounded surprisingly intimidating.

“Most in any situation akin to yours, which, admittedly there are next to none, would probably be thrilled that they didn’t lose 7 years. You get to pick up your youth right where you left off.” The healer continued to smile at them, but the three were silent, a little dumbstruck by the information and Jacob’s dissatisfied reaction. Jacob was still leaning forward in his bed, his arms folded in front of him like a petulant child and his brow deeply creased in confusion, as though he could somehow think his way out of this situation. Their mother was looking between the two with a similar look of confusion, but her reaction had been far from angry or dissatisfied at having her family reunited. If anything, this would only make things more convenient for her as a parent of two similarly-aged teenagers. Ophelia, however, was reeling a bit. Jacob’s comments had stung in an unexpected way. She had hoped that he would be grateful that she had brought him back against all odds, and had literally walked through fire to bring him home safe. The fact that he considered the time he spent in the cursed vault, and by extension the work she had spent to extract him, a complete waste was starting to rile her up a little as well. Noting that no one seemingly had anything left to say, the healer turned on her heel and left, leaving the three to stew in their emotions.

As soon as the healer was out of sight, Ophelia punched Jacob’s leg again, much harder than she had before. This time, Jacob visibly winced and gave a small shout of pain, clutching his leg as far as he could reach.

“Damn, Pip, what’s your damage?” he breathed, massaging his leg while their mother looked on, mortified by this violent development.

“I spent my entire school career trying to save you, I faced every damn monster and trap and curse that you did and I made it out alive, and then I pulled you out alive, and your ungrateful ass thinks it wasn’t worth it because you GET to be young again? No pun intended, but grow the fuck up, Jacob. I pulled you from the depths of dragon-infested hell and if you think it was all for nothing then I’ll find a way to send you back there.” Ophelia breathed hard, unaware that her voice had grown louder from behind the curtain, and most of the other conversations in the ward had ceased while she ranted. Their mother looked horrified for her daughter’s outburst and the public tantrum she was showing. Jacob, surprisingly, had clammed up, and retreated back into his propped-up pillows. He looked more annoyed than angry with the situation, but his brow softened as he regarded his frustrated sister.

“Thank you for your hard work, Ophelia. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“It’s what I wanted to hear the minute I stepped into the room,” Ophelia spat, scooching further down the bed to give herself more distance from him. She didn’t trust herself to not punch him again.

“I’m sorry you think that I think that you wasted your time,” Jacob said with a shrug, his face now unreadable, but his bright blue eyes flashing behind his glasses.

“ That’s not a real apology,” Ophelia sniffed.

“I’m sorry I was ungrateful for your hard work. I’m glad I’m alive, and awake. Not too jazzed about going back to school as a 23 year old, but I suppose I don’t have much of a choice until June, do I?”

“Apology accepted,” their mother interjected, glaring menacingly between her bickering children. Both Ophelia and Jacob immediately recoiled under her gaze, and adopted matching sheepish expressions.

“Apology accepted,” Ophelia repeated under her breath, refusing to make eye contact with her brother. If this visit was any indication, she was due for trying, if not very interesting, school experience once Jacob returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> sorry for the wait lads, im travelling rn so im suffering from chronic sleepy bitch disease, but I also really wanted to get this chapter out. for some reason this chapter took me a really long time to write and im still not happy with it, but it got us to where we needed to be, and sometimes that's the best a chapter can do.


	18. Tightrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I don't know how I ended up  
>  So close to where I started  
> I went to war for peace of mind  
> But what's it for?  
> _

The train ride from Hogwarts to London was unusually quiet, devoid of the festive cheer and excitement that it normally fostered at the start of the winter holidays. Ophelia was one of the few who had elected to go home, and was alone in her compartment, save for Seraphina sleeping in a basket at her side. Snow was beating silently against the window and coating the Scottish countryside in a perfect white blanket, acting like a mute on the world. It was chilly inside the train, which seemed even more palpable with the lack of friends to accompany her on the long journey back to London.

With no curse in place over the break for the first time in years, most students finally felt safe enough to remain at the castle and enjoy the festivities there. Fortunately, no one questioned Ophelia’s immediate and unwavering decision to spend the break with her mother at home. In the month since her last visit to St. Mungo’s, her demeanor had hardly improved around her friends. Rather than be preoccupied with whether Jacob would survive after the last cursed vault, she was now far more concerned whether she could survive an education alongside him. After everything she had been through, it was no surprise she was looking for a reprieve from the school. Ophelia personally couldn’t care less where she actually spent the break; she had recently heard from St. Mungo’s that Jacob had finally been cleared for release, and wherever Jacob was was where she wanted to be. She was admittedly a little apprehensive of how this reunion with Jacob would go, particularly after the less-than-cordial one they had experienced just a few weeks ago. To be fair, she had attack-hugged him almost immediately. He hadn’t been perfect either, but at least he had an excuse; maybe she had expected too much socially and emotionally from a boy who had been awake for 7 years straight, and was now expected to go back to school as though nothing had changed.

The long train ride was uneventful, and Ophelia was already well-rehearsed with the process of returning home for the holidays. Her school holiday routine with her mother had hardly wavered after 6 years, and she was unsurprised to see Julie Fawley waiting expectantly on platform 9 ¾, beaming and waving as Ophelia came into view amidst the steam of the stationary train and the sparse crowd. She looked better rested than Ophelia had seen her in nearly 2 months, and considerably bouncier than Ophelia could remember in the past decade or so. She was clearly giddy, rolling on her feet while Ophelia pushed her trolley towards her, but eventually giving up her patience and running forward to intercept Ophelia with a tight hug. Ophelia returned the embrace, genuinely grateful to be back in her mother’s arms. It had been an especially trying term, curse-breaking and brother-rescuing aside, and she was looking forward to spending the holidays in her own home, safe, isolated, and exclusively with her family.

“You look thin, have you been eating properly?” Julie asked almost immediately as the two walked side-by-side towards the brick barrier that separated their platform from the rest of the world. “You know I wish the kitchens would make that soup you like, and I’m sure if you asked they would.”

“I’ve been eating fine, Mum” Ophelia responded. It was a lie. She ate when she remembered to eat, and she was so frequently distracted that it was lucky for her to get one meal a day in at all. She could understand why her mother would immediately jump to that conclusion, though. She knew she had become somewhat gaunt in the months since opening the last vault from stress alone.

“And your hair, it’s still so short,” her mother tutted as they emerged inconspicuously on the muggle side of King’s Cross, her fingers now weaving between Ophelia’s curly short locks. Ophelia’s hair still sat around her ears and neck, a little longer than it had been when Penny had first cut it, but it was still shorter than anything else she had ever sported in her living memory. It had always been long and luxurious, and although she hardly considered herself beautiful, she had prided it as one of her best physical qualities. “We could get some hair growth potion over the weekend, it might be back to it’s regular length by the time you start school,” she offered, retracting her hand. Ophelia shook her head no; she had since grown accustomed to the cropped look, and was in no hurry to recreate her former visage. She sometimes missed the versatility and vanity the waist-length mahogany waves used to offer, but she would let it take its time to grow back out. She could do with a change in image right now, and shorter hair was definitely the least of all her worries.

The pair rounded the corner of the station, Ophelia gripping the handle of her trunk in one hand, her other hand looped with her mother’s hooked arm. In other mother’s other hand Seraphina meowed irritably from the jostling basket she was secured in. Mrs. Fawley continued to speak animatedly to her daughter, grinning excitedly all the while, clearly enthusiastic at the prospect of having the family together at home at long last. Once they had reached the seclusion of an empty alleyway just beyond the station, Ophelia tightened her hold on her mother, and in one swift, well-practiced spin, the pair disapparated.

Ophelia hated apparition, and attributed her immediate disorientation to the darkness and asphyxiation of the travel. However, once she had gathered her bearings, she could confirm that there was something different about their destination. Rather than appearing on the doorstep to the small apartment she had inhabited with her mother for the past 7 years, they stood at the gate of a large stone and brick townhouse. The building was not unfamiliar to Ophelia, but it had become overgrown with browning ivy in the years since she had last stood here. It was the home she had grown up in, lost her father in, and later Jacob. It was smaller than she remembered, now that she had grown a bit in her absence, but the house was undoubtedly old and grand, a pinnacle of Somerset architecture.

“Mum?” Ophelia turned to look quizzically at her mother, who was smiling wider than ever and had a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“Surprise!” Mrs. Fawley exclaimed, grabbing Ophelia’s arm with renewed glee as she pulled her towards the front door. Just from years of exposure to such protections at every home she had ever known, Ophelia could tell that the house was under several powerful enchantments to keep unwanted company away, still operating fully despite years without use. The enchantments let her through with no resistance, although Ophelia could still feel them there; it was like walking through chill, warmth, and thick water for the split second before she found herself at the somewhat weathered front door.

“Is there a problem with the apartment?” Ophelia asked hesitantly as she entered the house. Her mother was already far down the hall, putting aside her shoes and coat. She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Ophelia to take in the house. Other than the unkempt exterior, everything was exactly as she remembered it from her childhood. The furniture in the room next door was arranged around the fireplace, which had sprung to life the moment they had stepped through the door, already working on warming up the house. The antique clock in the corner accurately depicted the hour, magically wound and maintained without the aid of its owners. Everything even smelled the same, and Ophelia couldn’t quite place how that smell was so particular to her, but it filled her with an inconceivable sense of nostalgia, joy, and sorrow.

As she made her way down the hall, she took in the portraits and plaques that lined the walls leading up the stairs and down towards the kitchen, intermittently interrupted by moving photos of herself and Jacob as frolicking children. Those memories felt like a lifetime ago, to the extent where they didn’t even feel like they were her own.

“Well, with Jacob coming home, we’ll need the extra bedroom, won’t we!” her mother said cheerfully, emerging from the kitchen. The strong smell of brewing coffee wafted from behind her, and Ophelia was hit with another pang of bittersweet memories as the aroma filled the house. “Besides, I thought it would be nice for him to come home to something he recognizes, rather than somewhere new. He’s already been through so much, he needs some familiarity to help him resettle.”

Ophelia couldn’t argue with her mother’s logic, but she seemed so caught up in the novelty of reuniting her family under their old roof that she had somehow forgotten all of the anguish and grief this house used to impose on her. Not wanting to shake her mother from her mood, Ophelia nodded and offered her a smile, trying to convey understanding when she hardly felt it herself.

She turned to collect her trunk and cat basket, and began the trek up the stairs to her old bedroom. It struck her as she pulled the luggage emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest that, despite her magical upbringing and family, she had never truly lived as a witch in this house. She hadn’t shown any magical ability until she was nearly 10, at a time when she was living in London with her mother, and had spent her time in this house living in envy of her brother’s innate arcane skills. He had shown his own aptitude well before turning 7, and Ophelia had only ever known him in that magical capacity.

To her surprise, her bedroom was different from how she had left it 7 years ago. Her mother had clearly taken it upon herself to replicate her bedroom in their London apartment in place of her childhood room. Her bed and spread was the same as she had left it a few months ago before leaving for the Weasleys. The shelves were filled with the books she had collected over the last few years, but her collection looked far more sparse on the bookshelves that furnished her room, which were considerably larger than the ones she had had in London. The ornate oak desk in the corner, which she had rarely used as a child, now mirrored the setup she had adopted at the tiny workstation she had established in her most recent bedroom, tidied and organized by her mother in anticipation of her arrival. An open bird cage was tucked into the corner of the desk, housing a slumbering Arke, who had clearly made it to the house some time before she had. It was a little jarring to see the juxtaposition of her lifestyles all wrapped up in one room, but she couldn’t help but feel a deep appreciation for the effort her mother was putting in for the sake of her family.

Entranced by the home she used to know so well, she allowed her wandering feet to carry her towards the bedroom next to her’s. Unlike her own bedroom, this room had clearly not been opened since Jacob’s initial disappearance. Perhaps her mother felt she had nothing to change, but far more likely she felt it would be best not to even try. Ophelia was overcome with curiosity; Jacob had seldom allowed her inside when she was a small child, and she doubted that would change once he moved back in. Ophelia pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked loudly from lack of use.

The room was, unsurprisingly, entirely untouched, even since her mother had returned to inhabit the house. A thick layer of dust had settled on every single surface, the bed remained partially unmade, and miscellaneous clutter and notes were spread on every working surface. It strongly resembled the state of his room at the castle where he had gathered all of his research on the cursed vaults, with several elements being mirrored exactly to maintain consistency when he moved between locations. Aside from the dust and slight fading from the light, the room looked as though Jacob had left that morning, not 7 years ago. Unable to sate her interest from just a quick glance around, she quickly strode towards the desk. Years of working in Jacob’s old room at Hogwarts had built up a bad habit of disregarding the privacy of her brother’s documents, and she was sure she would have to work on that once he came home.

The desk was covered in hand-written notes, some spread out flat, some crumpled, and some wound tightly into narrow scrolls. She recognized Olivia and Duncan’s handwriting amidst her brother’s own untidy scrawl, relaying nearly a decade-old friendship between the messages. It was clear from the state of them that all of the messages from Duncan and Olivia were much older than the ones in Jacob’s hand, likely received while he was at school. The ones that Jacob had written were the ones laid on fresh, flat parchment, with some rolled and bound as if ready to be sent by owl. However, Ophelia knew that their mother was paranoid of the security, or lack thereof, of owl post, and all of these messages from Jacob were never read by his friends. An even closer look and several minutes of deciphering confirmed her suspicions. Almost all of them were notes of frustration, vents and thoughts from a lonely boy locked away in his own home like a prisoner. The letters read more like journal entries rather than correspondence, clearly written weeks and months apart during holidays. Considering that they were ultimately only for Jacob’s eyes, that was probably as good as they would ever be.

_Duncan, I know I said I would write more, and I had hoped that Mum would let us send messages from home now that You-Know-Who is gone, but she’s still worried that we’re being watched, and anything sent to and from the house can be intercepted and tracked. I’m so bored in this stupid empty house. At least in the countryside we were allowed to go outside because nobody lived nearby, but here I need permission to walk out my front door._

_Duncan, just came up with an idea for a new prank that will literally rock the castle: earthquake charm! It’ll be mostly harmless, ideally no architectural or collateral damage, but it’ll scare the daylights out of everyone to feel the earth roll under their feet. It’ll require some really intense spell manufacturing, and there’s not a chance in hell we won’t get caught if we set it off correctly, but it’ll totally be worth it. With spellcasting like that, they should be giving us awards, not detention. Making a note of it here so I don’t forget to mention it next time I see you._

_Liv, I think you had a really good point about the vaults all being tied to different houses or traits valued at Hogwarts. I think it’s a good starting point for where to look for the next vault, and might even give us a clue for what treasure is in the last vault. It seems to make more sense that the vaults would be a group or holistic effort, but there’s always that poetic drama between the houses whenever any one founder pulls a stunt. I know we’ve tried already, but I think we need to take another crack at talking to all of the ghosts again. Grey Lady, despite our personal advantages, will ironically be the hardest to crack. Keep thinking of ways to get to her if you can._

_Duncan, if you’re planning a jail break, now would be as good a time as any. Ophelia won’t stop moaning about (not) being a witch, since she’s nearly 9 years old and still hasn’t shown any magic yet. Ever since I told her what a squib is, she’s been in a panic and won’t stop crying at the thought of not going to Hogwarts. She’s definitely a witch, because no muggle could ever be that supernaturally annoying, but sometimes I like to think about how peaceful our last year of school would be without her wandering around as a first year alongside us. I get that we’re related and all, and maybe it’s just the difference in age and ability, but I feel like you’re my brother more than she’s my sister. I hope you get to meet her once day just so you can finally understand where my attitude really comes from._

_Liv, I’m sorry for what Duncan said to you about you being a stick in the mud. You’re not a stick in the mud, and you are an important part of our team. I know sometimes it seems like Duncan and I are excluding you, but we would both be so dead without you. You’re so important to us, and especially to me._

_Liv, I don’t trust R, and I know I’ve said it over and over before, but their agenda isn’t just about us anymore. They keep mentioning details about my mum and sister, and I think they might be in danger if we misstep. I joined because they claimed to have a link to my father and his death, but I realize now that that relation was misguided, and only worked as a manipulation tactic against me. We still have time to back out and just forget anything happened. I hate being Fawley’s tragic son, but I don’t think I could even live with myself if anything happened to the rest of my family. I’m out, and I wish you would come with me._

_Duncan, I’m so sorry. There aren’t enough apologies in the world. I just can’t believe you’re gone, and I can’t believe it’s my fault._

_Duncan, I wish you were here. I feel like I’ve really lost a brother. Even if you showed up to testify against me in front of the Wizengamot, it would be worth a lifetime in Azkaban to see you again._

_Liv, I’m running away, I’m going to fix everything, and I’m going to save you._

Ophelia set down the letters, realizing far too late that this time she had really shoved her nose in a place where it didn’t belong. Everything up until now had just been business as far as Jacob was concerned, but it was clear that his friends weren’t just confidents and team members; they were his family in as much as her friends were to her. Clearly, at times, he considered them kin so more than he did for her. It stung even more so to know he had felt this way about her when she was already so lonely, young, and vulnerable. Her heart felt as though it had been pierced with a thousand burning needles, despite trying to reason that this was how Jacob felt 7 years ago, not necessarily how he felt now. But Jacob now was effectively who he had been 7 years ago. Time wasn’t a factor for her brother in the same way it was for her, and it seemed the more she learned about Jacob’s past, the more apprehensive she grew about her future with him.

With a deep, settling sigh, she rearranged the notes as best she could to their original state before retreating from the bedroom, eager to leave that version of Jacob as far behind her as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did add ~~song~~ chapter titles to the fic when you weren't looking. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I actually have to maintain it :////
> 
> Second of all, sorry for the wait!! I've been stupid busy the past few months, moving to a new city, starting grad school, etc. I tried going on an official semi-hiatus for a while to focus on my studies, but now all my classes are moving to online, so i might have more time at home than i originally anticipated. I'm still prioritizing school over everything, and there will almost definitely be more long gaps between chapters, but this fic has been far from abandoned. If you want updates on fic progress (or just want to say hi), feel free to comment on this fic or hmu at cokebottlesanddenim.tumblr.com and i can try to tell you where i'm at.


	19. This Is Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> Get a load of this monster  
>  He doesn't know how to communicate  
> His mind is in a different place  
> Will everybody please give him a little bit of space  
> _

The living room was dark, save for the grey light peeking between the drawn curtains and glow of the dying embers in the fireplace. It was very early in the morning, and dawn had barely crested over the horizon, but in the growing light the soft shadow of falling snow could be seen opposite the room against the mantle. The room was chilly despite the thick drapes, but Ophelia slept soundly, curled up in her father’s old armchair, wrapped tightly in a heavy wool blanket, and blissfully unaware of the world around her.

The ornate grandfather clock in the corner chimed 6 times, and at that minute there was a shuffling in the hallway in the next room over, a series of soft clicks, the sound of a door opening, and then the sharp whistling of wind and a bitter chill. Ophelia stirred, opening a single eye at the interruption to the peace. There was some more shuffling, then the sound of the door closing, cutting off the wind and leaving the hallway silent once more.

Ophelia roused herself and drew herself up in the armchair, disappointed that she had evidentially missed her mother leaving for St. Mungo’s to pick up Jacob. Keeping in part with Jacob’s secretive return, he was scheduled to be released well before visitation hours to keep him away from prying eyes. Ophelia had slept in the living room in hopes of leaving early with her mother, but it seemed she was just a few moments too late.

“Mum, I can do it myself, I’m fine.”

Ophelia jumped at the voice, which had been so quiet that she almost couldn’t hear it over the whistling wind from outside and the dying cracklings of the fireplace. She leapt from where she had been sleeping and hurtled towards the hallway to intercept the owner of the voice, nearly colliding with him as she did so. Ophelia had certainly missed her mother leaving for the hospital, but had awoken just in time to see her come home.

Jacob and their mother had barely begun to take off their coats when Ophelia came running in, and all three yelped in surprise at the sight of each other. Jacob was attempting to take off his heavy jacket with one hand, while the other was gripped tightly to a simple wooden cane that was supporting most of his weight. True to his aggravation, Mrs. Fawley was trying to aid in manipulating his arms through the thick sleeves, but it was apparent that her interference was only making the situation more cumbersome. Mrs. Fawley stopped her efforts when Ophelia suddenly entered the room, allowing Jacob the freedom to shed his jacket on his own while she was distracted.

“Gracious, Ophelia, you’re up early,” she said, greeting her with a quick hug before pulling back to look at her slightly disheveled daughter with her usual air of concern. “I didn’t wake you up when I left, did I?”

“I slept in the living room so I could go to St. Mungo’s with you,” Ophelia responded, although her full attention was fixed solely on Jacob. Even hunched over the cane, he was at least a full head taller than she was, a fact she had never appreciated while he was bedridden in the hospital.

“I didn’t even see you in there, it’s so dark,” Mrs. Fawley said apologetically, moving past her children to hang up her’s and Jacob’s coats further down the hall. “Weren’t you cold?” She asked, now turning her attention back to Ophelia, looking for any signs of budding fever.

“I’m fine, Mum,” Ophelia said, echoing Jacob’s protests while she batted her mother away.

“Well, you two best go back to bed, it’s so early. I can come wake you up in a few hours when food’s ready,” she said, now gently ushering her children towards the stairs.

“I think I’ve slept for long enough,” Jacob said firmly, his tone resolute despite its softness. “Might as well stay up and get my sleep schedule back on track.” Ophelia’s gaze was still fixated on her brother, but she quickly nodded towards her mother in agreement. If Jacob was going to stay awake, there was no doubt she was going to join him.

Mrs. Fawley looked between her children with the same air of concern, and eventually offered them a soft smile, a little emotional at the sight of them altogether. She quickly hid this by turning and making her way towards the kitchen. She waved her wand as she went, flooding the dark hallway in warm light as the electric sconces down the wall were switched on. The sky outside was now a bit lighter, just on the cusp of sunrise, although it was unlikely to get much brighter later on with the heavy snowfall.

Within minutes, the sharp smell of freshly brewed coffee came wafting from the kitchen and began to permeate the cold corners of the house. Jacob began to hobble towards the kitchen without addressing Ophelia, and Ophelia followed closely behind, her eyes never leaving him.

“Smells good, Mum,” Jacob said, walking around her to take a seat at the table. He immediately swung sideways to recline against the wall, his dominant leg propped on the chair next to him for relief. With a loud clatter, he dropped his cane in the center of the dining table. Ophelia followed close behind Jacob, pausing at her mother’s side to collect a mug.

“Oi, where’s mine?” Jacob said, although his voice was barely louder than a hoarse whisper. It wasn’t as weak as it had been when he had first woken up, but it had become somewhat croakier, and was still remarkably quiet even in close proximity. He grabbed his cane from the table and prodded her with it, knocking at her ankles as she walked towards the table. Based on his tone and stoic expression, she couldn’t be entirely sure whether he was teasing her or was genuinely offended by her oversight.

“I didn’t know you drank coffee,” Ophelia said honestly, pushing her mug towards Jacob and rising again to fetch a second one for herself. Jacob let out a short bark of laughter and retracted the cane to his side, propping it upright next to his chair.

“I’ve been drinking black coffee since I was 11. When did you start?” He asked, nodding gratefully to his mother as she poured each of them a steaming cup of pitch black coffee. The smell alone was strong enough to bring Ophelia to full alertness.

“About 14 I guess. I heard that it stunts growth, but by then it looked like I wasn’t going to get any taller.” Ophelia said with a shrug. She reached towards the cream and sugar, and Jacob watched disdainfully as she added generous helpings of additives to her own beverage, rendering the coffee from its original black to a much paler beige. It was clear he wanted to make a comment on her coffee preferences in comparison to his own, but eventually deemed it wasn’t worth the effort. The kitchen was silent again as the siblings drank, save for the shuffling at the stovetop while Mrs. Fawley prepared breakfast.

Ophelia’s gaze was still fixed unwaveringly on him, as though hypnotized by his very presence. His eyes were swiveling around the kitchen, rapturously taking in the details that hadn’t changed since he’d disappeared, given that the house had been empty since then. When something grabbed his attention, he would freeze, looking like a deer in the headlights as he regarded it intensely, his bright blue eyes shining. He had a series of little tics that she had never noticed as a child, although it was entirely possible that they had developed since his escape from the portrait vault. Similar to Professor Dordee, there seemed to be a part of him that was always moving and in tune with some energy beyond Ophelia’s senses. His hands were almost continually clenching into a fist and stretching out, his knuckles rolling in continuous waves, as though he were rolling a galleon up and down his fingers. His eyes seldom rested on something for too long, always shifting to something new every few seconds while he drank in the comfortable familiarity of his childhood home. Every so often, he reached a hand up to his overgrown hair and ran a hand through it, scratching at his scalp or rustling his own dark curly locks. His hands always hesitated as they got lost in his hair, as though it were a surprise to him that he had it. It was absolutely entrancing just to watch him exist, and it was several seconds before Ophelia realized her mother was addressing her again.

“Eggs, Ophelia?” Mrs. Fawley repeated, holding the pan closer to Ophelia’s plate. Ophelia blinked, looking up at her mother before nodded with a smile. In the interim, Jacob had already started eating his own breakfast, his face nearly level with plate and devouring it with the frenzy of a starved dog. He was entirely unaware of the slightly alarmed and disgusted looks his mother and sister were regarding him with until his mother cleared her throat loudly.

“I ‘aven’t eatemm in 7 years, m‘um,” Jacob said indignantly, his words slightly muffled by the scrambled eggs he was still shoveling into his mouth.

“They gave you some food at the hospital,” Mrs. Fawley said, pulling Jacob’s plate a little further away from his face so that he would be forced to bring the food to his face with utensils like a civilized person.

“Elixir of nourishment, nutrition supplements, and jell-o cups aren’t food,” Jacob said dismissively after a heavy swallow, before watering down everything with a mouthful of coffee. He pulled the plate back towards his face and resumed. Mrs. Fawley watched him with concern as he continued to shovel down the eggs, but Ophelia was again entranced by his actions. She had seen hungry teenage boys eat nearly every day of her education, but everything Jacob did and the way he did it seemed alien to her.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” Mrs. Fawley tutted before turning to leave the room, but Jacob shrugged. Getting sick over eggs would easily be the least traumatic thing that had happened to him in the last decade at a minimum.

“What’re you looking at, Pip?” Jacob asked, peering at Ophelia and downing another mouthful of eggs and coffee. “Do I have ketchup on my nose or something?” Ophelia jumped a little as Jacob called attention to her obvious staring. He did indeed have food on his face, but Jacob didn’t seem to care, as he had already continued eating before even getting an answer from Ophelia.

The next time he came up for air, his plate had been entirely emptied, while Ophelia had barely gotten a good start at her’s. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, lost in his own thoughts as the muffled sounds of Celestina warbled from the radio in the next room. Although his face was motionless, his fingers continued to stretch and roll, and his feet bounced against the chair they were propped in, somewhat out of time with the music.

Their mother had reentered the room, having bound herself in a thick housecoat to combat the morning chill. She served herself some breakfast for herself before taking the seat next to Ophelia, watching wistfully as Jacob lounged across 2 dining chairs.

“Are you excited to start school again?” Mrs. Fawley asked kindly, staring intently at Jacob as though she could will him into being polite and paying attention to her.

“No,” Jacob responded in his usual quiet monotone, his posture unchanged.

“At least you’ll be able to pick up where you left off, so you don’t fall behind or repeat anything,” she continued, breezing past Jacob’s disengagement.

“I know,” Jacob said in the same absent tone, still not directly addressing his mother or sister.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my friends. They helped me over the years and they’re going to be so excited to find out that you’re back,” Ophelia chimed in, hoping her excitement would help rile up Jacob. Jacob didn’t even grace her with a response, but instead tilted his head slightly away from her.

Mrs. Fawley’s brow burrowed, and a few awkward minutes of silence passed, interrupted only by the sound of Ophelia and her mother eating and the somewhat muffled radio next door. Jacob seemed to be unaware that his family was there staring at him, and he looked so peaceful that Ophelia wondered if he’d actually forgotten he wasn’t alone. Despite her own shortcomings and moral discomfort with legilimancy, Ophelia would have given anything to know what he was thinking. Mrs. Fawley looked as though she wanted to reprimand him for his poor table manners, but also didn’t want to upset him or create a negative atmosphere on his first day home.

“Well, you’ll need to go to Diagon Alley to get school supplies. You can figure out which books you’ll want to share with Ophelia, but some of your old books are outdated, you’ll need potion supplies, and a new wand by the sound of it-“

“I don’t share books.” Jacob said sharply, cutting his mother off. He was still unmoved, but his face had twisted slightly into a frown to emphasize his disagreement.

“I’ll give you both some money and you can spend it as you need,” Mrs. Fawley said, matching his short tone with the same sense of finality, but not letting the hostility take her demeanor. After a beat of silence where Jacob didn’t talk back to her, she continued, back to her kind and doting tone.

“What are you thinking of doing today then, if you’re going to go to sleep later?” she asked. Jacob finally twisted back towards her, giving her a more civilized level of attention and respect.

“Probably some reading,” he said, scratching at his overgrown hair again. “It’s been a few years since I brushed up on the goblin wars.” Mrs. Fawley seemed satisfied with the answer, albeit a little horrified by the content, and turned to her daughter to ask the same.

“What about you, Ophelia? What were your plans for the day, since you’re also up so early?” Mrs. Fawley asked.

“I was reading a novel my friend Rowan recommended, so I’ll probably continue that,” Ophelia said enthusiastically. “It’s about spaceships and stuff. I think the technology in it is supposed to be future muggle science, but I’m pretty sure it’s all mumbo jumbo. The main character reminds me of my friend Ben, you’ll meet him when school starts, Jacob.” Ophelia continued, nodding towards her brother at the mention of her friends. Jacob let out a deep sigh that did nothing to conceal his obvious judgement in his sister’s literature choices; he had always preferred histories to fiction.

“I’m not really interested in your friends,” Jacob said, waving a hand away like he was rejecting an offer for more food. “And your friend has some poor taste in reading by the sounds of it.” Ophelia’s blood started boiling at his unwarranted opinions, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from spitting back a retort about his stupid dusty volumes and how her friends were too good for him anyways. Their mother had busied herself with more food to distract herself from Jacob’s callous remarks, as though if she ignored them the conversation would settle down again.

“Rowan’s read just about the whole school library and then some, I trust her opinions on books more than _anyone I know_ , Ophelia said in the most civil voice she could force out, although the sickly sweet airiness in her tone betrayed what she really wanted to say.

“Oh, speaking of, I got you both presents the other day to celebrate Jacob coming home!” Mrs. Fawley exclaimed suddenly, physically cutting the tension between the siblings with 3 large packages she procured from under her seat. None of them appeared to be relevant to the topic at hand, but Mrs. Fawley was clearly look for any opportunity to change the subject. “The top is for Jacob, the middle is for Ophelia, and the bottom is for you two to share!” she said brightly, distributing the packages accordingly. Jacob eyed the bottom package warily, already knowing that whatever it was, he wasn’t interested in shared custody.

Ophelia tore the brown paper away from her gift, revealing a soft athletic material within. She brandished it at the same time her brother flourished a similar garment on his side of the table. Her’s was navy blue with yellow trimmings, while his was color-blocked white and red. It took less than a second for each of them to recognize the vestments as quidditch jerseys of their respective favorite teams; Puddlemere United for Ophelia, and the English National team for Jacob.

For the first time since he had been freed from the vaults, Ophelia saw Jacob’s face break into a genuine, wide smile, and he immediately pushed away from the table in a haphazard attempt to put the jersey on over his sweater, nearly losing his balance in his excitement. Ophelia did likewise, although the jersey fit considerably less comfortably over her knobbly jumper than was intended. Jacob looked up at her jersey, his eyes peering at the crossed golden bulrushes that were emblazoned across her chest.

“Looks like books aren’t the only thing you have bad taste in,” he said, although his usual judgmental drawl was broken by a teasing snicker, and Ophelia found it in herself to laugh back.

“You’re one to talk, you haven’t seen how England’s played for the last decade,” she shot back with a smirk. She immediately caught herself, worried she might have triggered a nerve by referencing his time in the cursed vault, and for a second his eyes flashed, his small grin flickering like a flame. “I didn’t even know you liked quidditch,” Ophelia added quickly, eager to change the topic before Jacob’s mood soured again.

“I was into quidditch before you even knew the letter ‘q’” he said proudly, plucking at his jersey with a newfound fondness. Dad took me to the world cup in 1974, it was brilliant…” His eyes glazed over slightly, lost in thought at the fond memory from the happiest years of his childhood. Ophelia was a little dumbstruck; she hadn’t heard Jacob talk so much or so enthusiastically in one sitting before now, and it was a little jarring to hear so much of his voice at once. However, he quickly turned back to the final gift on the table, and his hands were at the wrappings before Ophelia could even sit back down again.

Under the parchment casing of this considerably thicker package was a polished wooden box, adorned on top with a checkered pattern in alternating light and dark wood. Jacob pulled at an inset drawer facing him, revealing a compartment of intricately carved wooden pieces, inlaid with enamel at the trimmings and details. It was a beautiful chess set, and Ophelia was so taken by its exquisiteness that she hadn’t noticed Jacob slowly pulling the box closer to his side of the table.

“It’s for sharing,” Mrs. Fawley reminded him sternly, her pale eyes regarding Jacob’s possessive stance. Jacob relinquished the set slightly, although he still had one hand splayed over the top of it protectively.

“I can play chess by myself,” Jacob said defensively. “Besides, Ophelia doesn’t even really like chess, she’s rubbish at it. Ophelia balked, taken aback by this unwarranted attack on her skills.

“That’s not fair, the last time you played me in chess I was six!. I’ll have you know I once beat Hogwarts’ best quidditch strategist in chess.” Ophelia said, now reaching a hand towards the set to pull it back towards the center of the table. Jacob didn’t relent his grip, his eyes glancing between Ophelia warily and his mother for support. Mrs. Fawley put her own hand on the set and pulled it back towards her with surprising strength, breaking both Ophelia and Jacob’s hold on it.

“We’ll keep it in the living room, and anyone can play with it anytime its free. It belongs to everyone,” she said firmly. Ophelia and Jacob clearly didn’t want to argue the toss with their mother over this beautiful and thoughtful gift, and let the argument go for the time being. Mrs. Fawley, apparently satisfied by the restored peace at the table, sat back down to resume her breakfast.

Jacob was silenced for a few seconds, seemingly holding his breath, but finally he hauled himself up from the 2 chairs.

“I’ll take it into the living room then, to free up space at the table,” he said, scooping up the wooden box and tucking it under his free arm that wasn’t supported by the cane. Mrs. Fawley nodded appreciatively, but Ophelia watched him suspiciously with a sense of mistrust and irritation in her chest. With some effort, Jacob turned and made his way towards the living room, the heavy thud of the walking stick sounded through the house on his alternating steps.

Ophelia barely hesitated. With her plate still half full of food, she rose from her seat and followed Jacob’s path towards the living room, creeping as silently as she could so as not to alert him.

From beyond the doorway, Ophelia could see Jacob on the other end of the room with his back to her. He had, true to his word, placed the chess set in a neutral position at the center of the coffee table, where it was free game to anyone. He was now examining the old record player next to their father’s armchair, his fingers ghosting over the old jazz records that hadn’t been played in over a decade. Next to that was a surface covered in family photos, although they all depicted him and Ophelia as much younger children at the oldest. Jacob seemed to be relishing in the home that hadn’t changed since the day he left, but to be fair the house hadn’t been lived in since then. Everything really way exactly as he had left it.

“Can I help you?” Jacob suddenly asked, his back still to Ophelia. Ophelia jumped, again caught off guard by Jacob calling attention to her staring. She hadn’t even realized that he had noticed she was there. He turned to face her, his blue eyes flashing on his otherwise emotionless face.

“I- I was just-“ Ophelia stammered, unsure of how to explain her lurking. She was far more preoccupied with how he seemed to know she was there at all.

“I can read minds like a radio signal, you know that,” Jacob sighed, walking towards her with his heavy limp. Ophelia was always thrown by how he towered over her, and she knew that once he stopped leaning on that cane, he would be a few inches taller still.

“Yeah, well you’re less difficult to read,” Ophelia said defensively, crossing her arms and standing her ground. Jacob mouth twitched upwards, looking almost pleased.

“That’s on purpose, Pip. It’s harder for people to get to you if they can’t get inside.”

“What are you hiding then? From me, of all people?” Ophelia asked curiously and a little indignantly. She felt that with all she had gone through, she at least deserved a little transparency from him.

“If you can’t tell the difference between me hiding and not hiding things, then I know I’m doing a good job,” Jacob said, that hint of pride and arrogance now a little stronger in his soft voice. Ophelia rolled her eyes. She was starting to see why Duncan held so much contempt for his best friend, even in death. Jacob seemed pleased with the point he had made, and turned to walk towards the hallway. Ophelia watched him go again, but made no move to follow him. With him upstairs and out of her hair, she could finally get back to reading her book without his judgement or rude remarks. However, she had barely settled herself in her father’s armchair before the peace was interrupted by the sound of stumbling and a few quiet but resolute swears coming from the stairs in the next room. She jumped up to see that Jacob, having misplaced his weight improperly on his cane while trying to go upstairs, had stumbled down several at once, and was stuck in a bit of a heap at the bottom struggling to right himself again.

“Jacob?” Mrs. Fawley called from the kitchen, the sound of furniture scooting while she rushed to get up to help him.

“I’ve got it, don’t worry, Mum,” Ophelia called back, walking over to help her fallen brother. He may be an insufferable prick, but Ophelia hoped that was just the shock of him settling back in. After all these years, and despite the last few hours of his company, she couldn’t bring herself to abandon him when he needed help.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jacob repeated, although he didn’t resist as Ophelia wordlessly joined him at his side, bracing his shoulder and waist with her arms and allowing him to put half of his weight on her as she guided him up the narrow stairs.

“Have you dealt with stairs yet?” Ophelia asked, breaking up the silence once they were halfway to the landing.

“No, it’s been all elevators and gurneys for me,” Jacob said through slightly clenched teeth, although it was clear his irritation was directed more at his weak legs than his sister. “The healers gave me a daily-use tonic, but said the best cure is just moving around as much as possible.” Ophelia said nothing, concentrating her strength on getting them up the stairs. With Jacob’s weakened legs and compromised balance, it was taking more effort than she had anticipated.

“You didn’t go in my bedroom at least, did you, Pip?” he half-chuckled as they reached the landing and Ophelia detached herself from Jacob’s arm so he could put the full weight on the cane again.

“No” Ophelia lied, stepping back to allow him better access to his door. Jacob took a step towards his room, but spun around and gave her a withering look, his face now crumpled in annoyance.

“You can’t like to me, Pip. I can read minds,” he huffed before turning to open his door. Ophelia opened her mouth to argue, but Jacob cut her off before she could get a word out, his back still to her. “I appreciate that you busted me out, but now that I’m back we’re going to have some boundaries vis-à-vis you and my space.” The door shut with a sharp snap behind him, leaving Ophelia alone on the landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no fucking kidding this chapter took me a month to write bc it turns out i don't really know how to write regular domestic scenes with no super dramatic conflict. I've literally already written like half of the next chapter, so hopefully there won't be as much of a wait. Sorry this one is a little lackluster and boring, but filler chapters to build characterizations and transitions are important (and also really hard to write)


	20. In The Flesh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tell me is something eluding you, sunshine?  
>  Is this not what you expected to see?  
> If you want to find out what's behind these cold eyes  
> You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise  
> _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter was late so this chapter is long

“I forgot that I really hate the Knight Bus,” Ophelia grumbled, tugging her coat tighter around her torso as she watched the triple-decker purple bus round the corner at top speed at vanish from sight. She shot a glance next to her at Jacob, who wasn’t faring any better. It wasn’t entirely clear whether Jacob was hunched over to put weight on the cane to regain his balance or to settle his stomach after that especially traumatic bus ride, but Ophelia was willing to bed it was a bit of both; her head felt as though it was still spinning, and the nausea was almost comparable to apparition or broom flying. The ice on the road was so thick and slick that it seemed as though the bus was going to overshoot their stop by a few miles if the driver wasn’t careful, and he was certainly driving as though safety and accuracy weren’t a real concern. After giving themselves another moment to catch their breath and steady themselves, the pair turned on the street to face their destination.

Ophelia and Jacob were standing on Charing Cross Road, opposite from an unassuming pub that apparently only they could see. As it was the morning before New Years, the streets around them were remarkably sparse, and their passage into the leaky cauldron was entirely unnoticed by the muggle populace.

In the few days since Jacob’s return, Ophelia’s mood had depleted considerably. All of the optimism and excitement she had left Hogwarts with had crumbled after sharing a house with Jacob for less than a week. At first she had continued to shadow her brother as he wandered the house as though lost in his own world, but it wasn’t long before that became an item of irritation for both of them. Jacob’s attitude had persisted since his first day back, and it didn’t take long for Ophelia to turn from rapt fascination to rampant frustration at his behavior. She was sick of the constant small coughs he made to clear his healing throat, the relentless tapping of his restless fingers on every surface around him, and the heavy thud of his cane as he traversed around the house.

As a courtesy, she had made a point of giving him more space, but she was finding him miserable to be around in any proximity. When he wasn’t in his room, he had taken residence in Ophelia’s favorite spot, their father’s old chair, and would often spend the entire day there reading huge old books Ophelia didn’t even know they owned, groaning at any noise or irritation that passed through the room. He seldom responded to questions or engaged in conversation with her and her mother, and when he did, it was in the same emotionless voice using as few syllables as possible. It was only by the will of their mother and a desperate need for school supplies that Ophelia was accompanying Jacob, and it was Jacob’s will that he had managed to get out of the house at all.

The inside of the pub was almost empty, save for the landlord working at the front, who nodded at them silently as they passed through before resuming his work at the bar, giving them no second thoughts. Ophelia didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until they got to the back room of the pub, where she exhaled deeply in relief that neither of them were recognized.

Ophelia and their mother had initially worried that it was too soon for Jacob to go outside in his state; Mrs. Fawley worrying that he was too weak to spend a day on his feet when it was so windy and icy outside, and Ophelia worrying that his face had plastered too many _Prophet_ articles to go unnoticed. However, Jacob was holding himself fairly well, and had taken the liberty of donning a furry trapper hat and several scarves on top of his heavy winter jacket to obscure his face. Even up close, he was nearly unrecognizable, save for the bright blue eyes behind rounded glasses. If anything, the cane only added to the disguise, although in his growing health Jacob was requiring it less and less. Ophelia was sure he hardly needed it at all at this point, at that he was simply keeping it up for the novelty of it all.

With a few sharp taps of her wand, the brick wall in the back room of the pub melted away, revealing the magical alley beyond it. Unsurprisingly, Diagon Alley was just as chilly as it had been on the main road, and even more sparsely populated, now that the season for gift shopping had passed. Most of the shops were open, but there were so few people about that there was a good chance they would be one of the only people in any shop they visited. Ophelia was grateful for this, but she still intended to be the face of as many transactions as possible to avoid Jacob facing and speaking with people.

Ophelia wordlessly walked Jacob immediately towards Ollivander’s, and Jacob followed with no hesitation, although he resisted her aid when she tried to steady his gait over the ice. It had been clear he felt somewhat incomplete without a wand in his pocket, and buying a new one for him was a top priority for both of them.

Once inside, Ophelia noticed gratefully that they were indeed the only customers in the shop. As the bell over the door tinkled announcing their arrival, there was a small sound of shuffling and footsteps in an unseen room in the back. Within seconds, the wispy-haired Ollivander emerged from the labyrinth of wand boxes that cluttered the back half of the shop and regarded the pair of them with surprise.

“Ophelia Fawley, what a delight it is to see you again,” Mr. Ollivander said, coming around the counter to shake her hand. “I’ve heard you’ve been up quite a bit of trouble at school. I assume your wand is serving you well in your… endeavors?” His pale eyes twinkled as he said this, suggesting he had no personal qualms towards Ophelia’s curse-breaking escapades. Ophelia brandished her wand from within her coat and presented it to him, which he picked up and examined in his long, bony fingers.

“Ah, sycamore wood and unicorn core. 9 ¾ inches, reasonably supple, if I remember correctly,” he said, dexterously twirling the wand between his fingers. “Verdillious!” he suddenly cried, directing the wand skyward, and a delicate shower of deep green sparks fell around them, dissipating harmlessly into thin air as they reached the ground. “Seems to be in fine working order, so what is it that I can do for you today?”

Before Ophelia could respond, Ollivander seemed to have suddenly noticed the scarf-clad Jacob, who had been lurking in the shadows in the front corner of the store.

“Merlin’s beard, Jacob Fawley, I was wondering when you’d be back. I had of course hoped to see you sooner, but there is no time like the present,” he breathed, barely containing his excitement. Ophelia’s stomach dropped and her blood ran cold hearing him recognize Jacob so quickly. She was sure her face had paled with horror, but Ollivander was so preoccupied with her brother that he paid her no mind.

Instead of coming forward to greet him as he had with Ophelia, Ollivander hurriedly retreated deep into the store and was quickly lost amidst the endless shelves of wands. “I remember your first wand, of course,” his voice continued from somewhere near the back, somewhat muffled. “Maple wood, dragon heartstring, 10 inches, inflexible. Such a shame they snapped it, it was one of my favorite designs…” his voice trailed off as he delved deeper into the unseen shelves of the store’s stocks. Ophelia shot her brother a very concerned glance, entirely unsure and somewhat alarmed by how had Ollivander managed to recognize him in a second despite his coverage, but Jacob simply shook his head and shrugged, his piercing glare suggesting that they shouldn’t discuss that here.

Ollivander reemerged and positioned himself behind the counter, a single box cradled in his hands. Jacob approached the counter, and Ollivander opened the box and held out the contents inside for Jacob to examine. The wand inside was somewhat rough hewn but twisted into an intricate tip. The handle was a little hooked, but looked as though it would fit naturally in the palm of the beholder.

“Blackthorn, dragon heartstring, 10 ½ inches, surprisingly swishy,” Ollivander said as Jacob took the wand, twirling it between his fingers as Ollivander had done with Ophelia’s. Without need for prompt, he gave it a short wave. The glass inkpot on Ollivander’s desk shattered, showering broken shards and dark ink in all directions.

“No, not that one I’m afraid,” Ollivander tutted, quickly gesturing for Jacob to replace the wand in the box. Neglecting the mess the wand had left behind, Ollivander once again disappeared into the stacks. He returned again less than a minute later, holding a different open box for Jacob to try. This wand was a much richer red hue than the last one, and had a subtle two-toned pattern that spiraled from the tip down to a dark red gem embedded at the base of the handle.

“Cherry wood, unicorn hair, 9 ½ inches, solid,” he said as Jacob picked it up, although somewhat more tentatively than he had the first one. Again, he wordlessly swished the wand through the air. The flames of the candles on the counter immediately exploded into angry red fireballs, shocking Jacob enough to cause him to drop the wand on the counter with a loud clatter. As he lost his grip on the wand, the flames died down again, although a distinctively smoky smell lingered in the air.

“No, no, no, that wasn’t right,” Ollivander said dismissively, rushing to put the wand back in the box and whisk it back into the store.

“Why can’t we just get the same sort of wand Jacob had before, if it worked so well?” Ophelia called as Ollivander disappeared again. There was no response to her query, and for several minutes afterwards all the siblings could hear was the endless shuffling of boxes being drawn in and out of the shelves in a frenzy. Ollivander emerged for a 3rd time, now carrying a box that was considerably dustier than the previous ones. He laid it down on the table unopened before addressing Ophelia.

“Even wands with identical attributes can not be considered equal, as every piece of wood and every core is unique to itself, the core’s origin beast, and the tree in question. There are no exact clones in the wand world, and finding two wands made from the same tree or bearing the core from the exact same creature is a phenomenon of considerably rarity. Two wands with the same material properties may had similar performative attributes, but they would be considered cousins at best, certainly not twins. If I presented your brother with a wand that matched his original wand on paper, there’s no guarantee that it would perform as the first one did, as this is a different wand with a mind and soul of its own, so to say. Besides,” he finally opened up this box and presented the contents to Jacob, revealing a simple, straight wand inside with delicate carved runes and a silver inlay circling up the handle, “as we grow and change, so does our need in wands. A new wand is an opportunity to explore our own personal growth, and should be embraced, rather than retreating to the familiar.” Jacob picked up the wand again, and this time something seemed less chaotic about its aura in his fingers. “Pine wood, phoenix feather core, 11 inches, rigid.”

Jacob didn’t even need to wave this wand before the effects of their bond were apparent; it was as though all the lights in the store had dimmed so that the wand in Jacob’s hand could glow even brighter, bathing him in a warm light that rendered his blue eyes momentarily gold. Ophelia watched in awe, trying to remember if she had even had such a reaction with her own wand when she had bought it. Even from beneath the layers of scarves, it was clear that Jacob was smiling.

“Fantastic! Brilliant!” Mr. Ollivander said brightly, clapping his hands together. The glow around Jacob faded as he lowered the wand, and the room returned to normal, although it wasn’t necessarily clear whether it had even changed at all in the first place. Ophelia placed some of the money their mother had allocated them for the trip on the counter, which Ollivander quickly scooped into the till. Ollivander offered the box out to Jacob to replace the wand, but Jacob instead stowed the wand deep within his coat.

“I’d actually prefer to keep it on my person, please,” Jacob said, his soft voice muffled but resolute. It was the first time he had spoken at all since entering the shop, and Ophelia was surprised he had brought himself to speak at all, considering how far he’d already come without talking. Ollivander nodded and stowed the empty box under the counter, and the siblings graciously excused themselves back to the alley outside.

“Okay…” Ophelia said, brandishing a list, “you’ll need some books since you refuse to share with me, and don’t think I’ll be carrying all your shopping just because you’re using a cane, I know you could walk without it if you wanted,” Ophelia said, nodding towards Flourish and Blotts. Jacob didn’t need to be told twice, and immediately made his way ahead of Ophelia towards his beloved bookstore, his gait surprisingly stable and quick for someone toting a cane.

“Oh shit,” Ophelia sighed and rushed after him; if he wasn’t careful, he might get himself recognized again, she there was no guarantee that everyone was going to be as discreet and professional about his return as Ollivander was.

It was apparent the moment Jacob entered the shop that he wasn’t looking for a book; he was several paces into the store, his head swiveling around in every direction but the shelves, looking around the corners of the section housing the oldest, dustiest tomes, but clearly searching for something else. Ophelia was a few steps behind him, having had to pace herself on the slippery street outside. From her position near the door, she caught a quick flash of elegant purple robes walking deep into the mezzanine, which Jacob had gratefully not yet spotted. Before Jacob could draw any more attention to himself, Ophelia furiously pulled him aside into the stacks where they wouldn’t be overheard.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, although Jacob was definitely not listening; his neck was craning beyond the book stacks, his eyes still frantically searching the store beyond. She punched his arm, which drew his attention back to her, although he now looked just as irritated as she did.

“Looking for Madam Villanelle, I want to see her,” Jacob said curtly, barely giving Ophelia a glance before moving to look out into the store again. Ophelia deftly pulled him back.

“Ollivander recognizing you was a fluke, but you still can’t talk to Madam Villanelle right now!” Ophelia whispered angrily, tugging his coat back to prevent him from escaping. Jacob knocked her back with bottom of his cane, giving himself some distance from her grasp. He pulled the scarves down, exposing his face so he could speak back to Ophelia in the same hushed tones.

“Says who?” Jacob spat, waving the cane at her ankles threateningly.

“Says Dumbledore! And Mum! And Me! If Madame Villanelle sees you, who’s to say a customer won’t also see you? Or a reporter? Or a spy for R? We’re just here to get school supplies, not go on a victory tour to announce that you’re back,” Ophelia said, trying to push past Jacob to bar him from going back out into the main shop. She managed to get a good elbow into his side, but he shoved her back into the shelves in retaliation with considerable force, the bulk of his jacket adding heft to his movements. The old shelves rattled a little in the scuffle, and both siblings froze for a second, careful not to cause a scene neither of them wanted.

“Dumbledore’s rules mean nothing, Mum isn’t here, and you’re not the boss of me!” Jacob whispered, his voice becoming more raspy from the anger in his quiet voice.

“I’m older than you!” Ophelia retorted, finally managing to get between Jacob and the shop and standing her ground. “I’m in charge until you get to school.”

“We both know that’s bullshit,” Jacob said, rolling his entire head in exasperation. “I have one, maybe two friends in the whole world who aren’t dead or in prison, I haven’t seen them in nearly a decade, and you have no right to stop me from seeing them.” Jacob seethed. Ophelia hadn’t seen him look so desperate and angry as far back as she could remember, and her heart fell as he said this. He drew out his new wand from within his coat, and Ophelia eyed it warily, hoping he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but not certain that he would hold back. “I deserve to see my friend,” he reiterated, his wand pointed square at Ophelia’s chest. Ophelia hesitated; she wouldn’t put it past her brother to stun her in a bookshop, regardless of the consequences.

“You’ll get to see her again, I promise,” Ophelia said, her tone now much softer in an attempt to deescalate the situation. “But now is not the time. Mum and I put a lot of effort into keeping your return quiet so you could have a safe and peaceful homecoming, so do it for Mum if no one else. I just want you to be safe, because I don’t know what I’m going to do if something happens and I lose you again.” Jacob’s wand remained raised, but his white-knuckled grip slackened a bit. His eyes were searching hers, and Ophelia recognized the very uncomfortable and familiar sensation of having her thoughts read like a book. After a very tense moment, Jacob finally lowered and stowed his wand again before pulling the scarves back over his face. He certainly wasn’t happy, but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Ophelia honestly had his best interests at heart.

“Lets just get the books and go then,” Jacob mumbled, barely audible behind the scarves. He turned his back to her to peruse the old books they were surrounded by. “I’ll look around here, you just get what I need, and I’ll meet you when you’re done. We’ll draw less attention that way.” Ophelia remained still, unsure whether to console her brother or be suspicious of his intentions, but when he continued to genuinely examine the books in the stacks, she stepped out of the shelves and into the main area of the store. Gratefully, there were no customers in their area of the shop, so their row had apparently gone entirely unnoticed in the otherwise quiet bookstore.

Without wasting time, Ophelia was quick to gather the books she knew Jacob would need, internally grumbling at the idea of buying brand new duplicates for her fussy brother. To be fair, she had read through books he owned, and she was well aware that he took notes in every spare margin and space between the print, which would render a shared copy as good as useless for her. Despite what she had said to Jacob in the alley, she knew she would be carrying his purchases for him, but it was the least she could do if he had to refrain from any social interaction while he was out for the first time in over 7 years. She brought the stack up to the counter, where a kind-looking young witch was attending the register.

“Oh, a bit late getting your books, are you?” she said jokingly, tallying up the price as she went over the stack.

“There was an accident with my trunk,” Ophelia lied quickly. She immediately blushed, aware that it was a very stupid and unfortunate lie to go with. It would have been much easier to say they were a gift. The cashier looked at her with wide, sympathetic eyes, but gratefully asked no further questions as she continued to check out the rest of the books.

“Ophelia Fawley!” a familiar voice suddenly called from behind, and Ophelia whipped around, quick to push the purchased books into her tote and out of sight. Tulip was standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the mezzanine, her face glowing with excitement at the sight of one of her best friends.

“Tulip!” Ophelia managed to cough out, caught entirely off guard at the sight of a school friend. Despite Tulip’s general aversion to hugs, she hurried forward and greeted Ophelia with a quick but eager embrace. From the corner of Ophelia’s eye, she kept a look out for Jacob. She saw that he had turned at the sound of her name, but had since resumed his browsing while she was in recognized company. “I thought you were staying at school for the holidays,” Ophelia said breathlessly. Tulip’s face soured as Ophelia said this.

“I was, but my _parents_ ,” she responded in an acidic undertone, “thought I was avoiding them too much, so they put me on the last train back to spend New Years with them. They’re throwing a party for their work friends, and they want me to be there. Which is crazy of them, if you ask me. Of course I’m obviously avoiding them, and I’m definitely going to make trouble at that party. They should know by now I shouldn’t be let near fireworks, so that’s on their heads,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Before Ophelia could respond, another witch rounded the bannister where Tulip had spotted her from.

“Tulip, dear, who have you found there?” she called in a bright tone as she made her way towards the pair. Ophelia’s jaw nearly dropped. This witch was clearly Tulip’s mother in appearance, but everything Tulip had implied about her parents’ personas was not present in this woman. She was barely taller than her daughter, had long, shiny black hair that moved like water, and her dark brown eyes sparkled as she regarded Tulip with her friend. Her pointed hat was fashionable and adorned with felted flowers, and at her neck she had tied her scarf into a big, plump bow. Far from the austere, hostile portrait Tulip had illustrated with years of complaints, this woman appeared to be the pinnacle of kindness, beauty, and patience. Despite her mother’s pleasant demeanor, Tulip sighed irritably.

“Mum, this is Ophelia Fawley,” Tulip grouched, gesturing towards Ophelia. Ophelia smiled meekly and held a hand out to shake. To her surprise, Mrs. Karasu pulled her into a warm, welcoming embrace.

“Of course, of course, my Tulip talks about you all the time, how could I not have guessed,” she said, once she had pulled back. Ophelia was a little shell-shocked from the earnest greeting, and simply continued to smile at her, unsure of how to proceed. Tulip huffed and rolled her eyes again from behind her mother’s back. “I’d actually heard of you long before Tutu met you at school. My husband and I work in the department of magical law enforcement, so we were familiar with your father and your brother’s respective cases,” she said, looking at Ophelia with genuine concern, “And such a shame you didn’t find your brother after that last curse, after all that work you put in.” It might have been a flicker of the light, or a cruel trick of Ophelia’s paranoia, but she thought she saw Mrs. Karasu’s eyes flit towards Jacob, who had his back to them in his dusty old corner. She was sure it must have been her imagination.

“Mum, we need to go, Ophelia probably has stuff to do,” Tulip said, tugging at her mother’s sleeve and walking backwards towards the door. Mrs. Karasu smiled at Ophelia, nodding her head apologetically towards Tulip. Ophelia’s smile tightened even more, growing ever closer to a grimace.

“Well, have a happy new year, Ophelia,” she said, coming in for a second hug before retreating with her daughter. Ophelia watched them go, Tulip keeping several strides ahead of her mother and not looking back at her as she stomped down the street. Ophelia had always been so sure that Tulip’s behavior was justified by her parents’ strict and supposedly cruel demeanors, but after seeing Tulip alongside her mother, she was struggling to find any correlation. Tulip was a calculating individual, and Ophelia didn’t know her to make unwarranted decisions. If Tulip’s parents weren’t the authoritarian tyrants Ophelia had always assumed, maybe it was possible that Ophelia didn’t know Tulip as well as she thought she did.

“School friend?” a low voice mumbled near Ophelia’s ear, and Ophelia nearly dropped her books in surprise to find that Jacob had moved behind her while she watched the Karasus walk further down the street. She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts about Tulip that she hadn’t even noticed the thump of Jacob’s cane as he moved across to the store to her.

“Erm, yeah, and her mum, who I’d never met. It was… unexpected,” Ophelia responded slowly, still a little lost in thought.

“Ok,” Jacob said shortly, his tone indicating he had no further interest in the matter. He moved past her towards the door, and Ophelia quickly gathered herself before rushing forward to easily match his pace. Once back in the chilly alley, Jacob walked a step behind her side while she carried the books in her bag, the only sound between them the whistling of the harsh winter winds. There was still a heavy tension between them from the fight, but Jacob had indeed stayed put while she shopped, and she was worried that bringing it up would start the argument all over again. She definitely didn’t want to give Jacob a reason to use his new wand while they were out.

“Magical Menagerie? We’ll probably have enough money leftover if you want to get a new pet?” Ophelia suggested, handing the purse of money towards Jacob as an offering of peace and trust. Jacob didn’t take the purse, and instead stared at her quizzically.

“Why would I need a new pet? I still have Arke, right?” he replied. It was less of a question and more of a statement. Ophelia opened her mouth to argue that Jacob had been gone for longer than he had ever owned that owl, and in his absence she had been the sole caretaker of him. That owl was as good as hers. However, she shut her mouth, deciding against the fight that would definitely ensue. As much as she had grown fond of Arke in their time together, Seraphina was strictly her pet, and Arke had always been Jacob’s. Despite the technical shift in ownership, Jacob wasn’t really taking Arke away.

“Fine. Do you need quills or ink or anything?” she said, pausing in front of the stationary store.

“I’ve been using muggle pens for years, I don’t know why people still waste their time with quills,” Jacob said, moving past the window display without giving so much as a glance.

“Do you need any new robes,” Ophelia asked, pausing in front of Madam Malkin’s. She was considering some dress robes for herself, but hadn’t found a need for any yet. She wouldn’t bother bringing Jacob in there unless he had a reason to go as well.

“All my robes from 7 years ago still fit me,” Jacob said, an edge of resentment in his tone now. “No use in buying anything, unless they drastically changed the dress code since I’ve been gone.”

“Okay, fine, what about the apothecary? Snape is a really ruthless teacher and won’t accept ‘trapped in a cursed vault for 7 years’ as an excuse for being ill-prepared.”

Jacob paused and turned to look at Ophelia curiously.

“Snape? Like Severus Snape?” he asked, a raised eyebrow just visible under his hirsute hat. Ophelia nodded, and Jacob scoffed, looking up at the apothecary, seemingly amused by this development. “He was a 7th year when I started Hogwarts. He was brilliant at potions then, but we all sort of figured he would join You-Know-Who when he graduated. Never thought Dumbledore would hire him as a teacher after the kind of rhetoric he was spouting in school.”

Ophelia gaped at Jacob. It had never occurred to her that Snape, being one of the younger faculty members, had been close enough in age to Jacob that he had attended school with him. As for his dark alignments… she had definitely heard gossip regarding Snape’s previous affiliations, and it was a common joke amongst those less gifted at potions that Snape would make a better Death Eater than a professor. However, nothing had ever been confirmed or denied, and she had generally refrained from dwelling on it. She’d had her fair share of untrue and malevolent rumors regarding her family and her own psyche, and knew better than to believe every rumor she heard.

“Apothecary it is. Wouldn’t want to disappoint ol’ Severus on my first day back by being out of asphodel or something.” He hobbled towards the shop with a fresh interest, allowing Ophelia past him to open the door and lead the pair inside.

Ophelia nearly tripped over her own feet as she followed Jacob indoors and her eyes met with the only other customer in the shop. Penny Haywood was standing at a display near the door, and her face lit up at the sight of Ophelia. Then her eyes immediately went to the heavily-clothed Jacob, and her blue eyes went as wide as saucers as realization dawned on her face.

“Hi Penny, what brings you here? How are you doing? What’s up?” Ophelia asked quickly, rushing to stand immediately next to her friend to draw attention away from the tall, shrouded stranger she had walked in with. Penny’s eyes didn’t tear away from Jacob, who was standing awkwardly near the door, trying to busy himself mindlessly with some dead beetles to avoid eye-contact with Penny. Penny’s shocked expression had morphed into one of unrestrained glee.

“Is that him? How’s he doing?” Penny asked in an excited whisper. “I’ve been waiting for months to ask, but he looks pretty good on his feet for someone who spent the better part of a decade in a cursed vault.” Ophelia’s jaw dropped, absolutely dumbfounded by Penny’s intuition and lack of surprise at this development. She had no idea where to even begin with Penny’s questions. To her horror, Penny stepped away from where she was standing and walked straight over to Jacob. With no hesitation, she reached out an eager hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Penny, it’s really great to meet you!” she said, continuing in the same excitable whisper. Jacob looked similarly dumbstruck, and glanced between Penny and Ophelia with shock and uncertainty in his eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he reached out his own hand and took hers with one stiff shake. Penny, seemingly satisfied with this, rushed back to Ophelia’s side, grinning from ear to ear.

“Penny, what the fuck? How did you know? What do you know?” Ophelia didn’t see anything exciting about this scenario, and was trying to find some reasonable explanation for Penny being as in the loop as she was. Penny started giggling, realizing that Ophelia genuinely had no idea what was happening.

“You told me, after the Gryffindor party last November when I walked you back to your dorm, do you not remember? I’ve known since then, but it seemed like you were pretty insistent on him not being back, so I didn’t mention it. And people say I can’t keep gossip to myself,” she added proudly. Ophelia felt as though she had been hit by a train with this realization. She honestly had a very limited memory of that night, but she could have sworn she hadn’t drunk that much, and she would certainly remember if she had told anyone that Jacob was back.

“Who else knows, did you tell anyone?” Ophelia hissed urgently, her eyes darting between Penny’s with fear.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone. Your secrets will always be safe with me,” Penny said reassuringly, but she quickly sank back into her excitable state. “So what’s it like, having your brother back?” she asked eagerly, her eyes again darting back to Jacob, who was very obviously trying to remain as unnoticeable as possible. He wasn’t doing a terrific job, as he, Ophelia, and Penny were the only customers in the store.

“He’s… it’s… interesting,” Ophelia said slowly. In truth, having Jacob back in her life had made things complicated and somewhat insufferable, and all the love and loyalty she had for him couldn’t erase that. However, after all the effort and trouble she had put herself and her friends into saving him, she didn’t want to disappoint them with a scathing review of her awful teenage brother. “You can’t really tell, which is sort of the point with all the scarves and hat, but he hasn’t aged much because of curse-y magic, so he’s coming back to Hogwarts next term.”

Penny squealed loudly at this piece of particular juicy gossip, and she was practically bouncing with anticipation for Ophelia.

“Oh that’s fantastic, I’m so excited to get to know him,” Penny said, looking back over her shoulder at Jacob.

“Haha, yeah…” Ophelia said, her voice trailing off. Jacob had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her friends, and she knew some of them would be disappointed to know that, Penny included. “It’ll take him a while to adjust though, so don’t rush him or anything,” Ophelia added.

“Oh Ophelia, you know me,” Penny said, shooting Ophelia a wink before dropping her demeanor to a more serious tone. “But really, I promise to keep quiet about everything until it’s all official, you don’t even need to worry,” she said as she put a reassuring hand on Ophelia’s shoulder. “Us sisters gotta look out for each other’s siblings.” She smiled at Ophelia again before taking her collected items up to the till to check out. Jacob turned fully to stare at Ophelia, clearly mouthing something agitated underneath his scarf. As Penny made her way out, she stopped to give Ophelia a quick hug before walking out the door. “I’ll see you two at school!” she called just before the door closed behind her.

Jacob wasted no time in striding towards Ophelia, massaging his eye sockets with his palms as he did.

“I’m not going to have to be friends with her, right?” he asked exasperatedly. Apparently between whatever he had overheard from their whispers or their thoughts, this was the primary takeaway he was most concerned with. Ophelia offered him an apologetic half-smile.

“Sorry, but Penny is friends with everyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy chapter 20 on (4)/20/20 oh yeah its all coming together dot jpeg
> 
> i promise next chapter we move away from fawleys-at-home stuff, which has been tough for me to write (but hopefully not as tough to read)


	21. King's Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Only last night I found myself lost  
>  By the station called King's Cross  
> Dead and wounded on either side  
> You know it's only a matter of time  
> I've been good and I've been bad  
> I've been guilty of hanging around_

By the time everyone had finished eating breakfast the morning Ophelia and Jacob were due to start the new term (which had been an aggravatingly silent but unusually peaceful ordeal) and made their way to the front door with luggage and pets in tow, it was nearly a quarter to 11, and Ophelia’s insides felt painfully like twisted adders. She had never, ever been late for the train before, and couldn’t even imagine what she would do if she missed it, let alone the punishments that would ensue.

However, her mother and Jacob didn’t seem nearly as perturbed by the passage of time as Ophelia was, and continued to take their time getting in position to apparate. Ophelia had spent the majority of the morning stressing over their perpetually delayed departure, and was personally holding Jacob accountable for throwing a spanner in her usual punctuality. He had severely procrastinated on packing, leaving much of his belongings scattered around the house until the morning of departure, and despite having since abandoned his walking cane, his gait was still agonizingly slow, especially when she really needed him to get a move on.

Ophelia was buzzing so much with anticipation that she practically snatched her mother’s arm when she offered it out to her. She was so distracted by their lateness that she forgot to take a breath in before they abruptly apparated.

Over 100 miles later, Ophelia’s lungs expanded once again, and she gasped deeply as she tried to overcome the horrible sensation of having every little bit of air squeezed from her body while she traveled quickly but excruciatingly through the void. They had appeared unceremoniously in a quiet corner of King’s Cross, entirely unnoticed by passing commuters making their way to their respective platforms.

Before Ophelia had even brought herself back up to her full height with the proper amount of air in her lungs, Jacob had already released his mother, gathered his trunk and owl cage, and had set off towards platform 9 ¾ without so much as a farewell. Braced on his trolley, he moved with a quickness that Ophelia had been waiting for him to show all morning, and grumbled irritably that it was only now he chose to move at a proper speed. Ophelia barely saw him disappear in a crowd of muggles, who at most spared him a bemused glance at the covered bird cage perched on his trunk.

Ophelia hesitated for a moment as she watched him go, but a far more jarring sight caught her eye: the large clock hanging from the wall showed that she had less than 10 minutes to get on the train before it was due to leave. Although Jacob may have had some sense in getting to the platform quickly, it was still no excuse for how rudely he had gone about it.

Ophelia turned to her mother to complain, but was met with an embrace as she turned. Ophelia immediately felt at a loss for words, and buried her face into her mother’s shoulder, making an anguished noise that was muffled by their combined scarves and coats.

“Dear, I know. Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Fawley said soothingly, smoothing down Ophelia’s hair with a calming stroke as she hugged her aggravated teenager. “I know the morning was hard for you.”

“Jacob ruined everything,” Ophelia huffed melodramatically, her face still muffled by her mother’s hug. Despite the exaggerated histrionics in her tone, she was still very upset by Jacob’s lack of consideration for others, including his own family. She knew it was petty to be dismayed by something so inconsequential, but deep down, she felt as though the term was already somehow doomed.

“We were going to have to be accommodating of him either way,” Mrs. Fawley reasoned, drawing back from the hug and cupping her daughter’s face. “Maybe next term we’ll be more prepared, and can block out more time for a proper routine, okay?”

“I wish Jacob wasn’t such a jackass. After everything I did for him to get him home safe, and everything you did to make him happy and comfortable, and he just ran off at the first opportunity. I was so excited to have him back and be friends with him, but now I can’t stand being in the same room as him. He’s argumentative, territorial, and is entirely incapable of acting like a civilized human being for even a minute. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be back. I can’t wait for school to start so I can avoid him and pretend he’s not my brother,” Ophelia groused. Her mother frowned deeply at her language and inimical feelings towards Jacob, but didn’t reprimand her for it.

“Jacob has always been more of a solitary figure, and he can have trouble expressing his feelings honestly. He was only a bit more open with me before… before that incident, and I’m honestly grateful that he’s as sociable as he his, all things considered. He’s having a hard time adjusting, and I really can’t blame him. I’m just grateful that he’s home at all,” Mrs. Fawley said, looking directly at Ophelia’s face. Ophelia averted eye-contact, worried that she might get too emotional if she was forced to confront what her mother was saying. “Ophelia, you need to understand that he really is grateful for your help, but he still feels like a failure and is angry that he has to reenter his life when it was most stressful for him, only now he’s in an alien environment and time. He really needs you more than ever, and the worst thing you could do is abandon him now.”

Ophelia blinked hard, still not looking at her mother. Another glimpse at the clock showed she had less than 3 minutes to go, and she jumped in horror so quickly that she nearly knocked them both over.

“Shit, mum, I’ve got 2 minutes, I’ve got to go. But I love you!” Ophelia cried, stumbling as she rushed to gather up her trunk and cat basket. Mrs. Fawley looked a little disappointed by the abrupt the end to their touching moment, but aided Ophelia in dragging her luggage towards the platform to make the best time.

“Take care of yourself, and your brother,” Mrs. Fawley said quietly as she pulled Ophelia in for another quick hug in front of the brick wall.

“Yes, yes, I will, bye, love you!” Ophelia called in a panic, frantically running headlong at the wall. There was the usual swooshing noise and plunge into darkness as she passed between the platforms, but as she emerged on the other side, the large red steam engine was gratefully still idling on the tracks, its carriage doors still open as porters guided the final stragglers inside.

Ophelia wasted no time in jumping onto the carriage closest to where she had appeared on the platform, hearing the shouts of last calls and engine whistle sound out not a moment later. She had barely started to make her way down the corridor of the train before the locomotive lurched forward, starting its long journey towards Scotland.

Being among the last on the train, it was no surprise that nearly every compartment that Ophelia passed by was occupied by other students. There were several other students in her position, wandering the narrow corridor with their luggage as they searched for available nearby seats, making it difficult to traverse down the train. Despite what her mother had said to her just moments before, Ophelia could help but still feel resentful that this was Jacob’s fault, and if they had arrived just a bit earlier, she would have had an easier time finding an accommodating compartment.

Ophelia had to travel nearly the entire length of the train before the crowd started to thin out, and soon the only sounds she could hear was the rumbling of the tracks below her. She could see through the windows of the surrounding compartments that they were already occupied, save for the last compartment at the end, which had its shades drawn low. Acting on a hunch, Ophelia pulled her trunk towards the back of the train and opened the door without so much as a knock. Her hunch had been correct; the only one in the compartment was Jacob, sprawled across the bench to elevate his leg with two books open in his lap. Without hesitation, Ophelia quickly pulled her trunk into the compartment, grateful to get out of the narrow corridor.

“Occupied,” Jacob said in a low monotone, not even looking up from the reading in his lap. Ophelia knew he was fully aware it was her, given how unperturbed he had been by the sudden intrusion. However, she ignored what he said, and wasted no time in hauling her trunk over the seats. She wished she could have asked Jacob to help her, as he had nearly a foot of height on her and would have been able to place the luggage far more easily, but she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell Jacob would lift a finger to sacrifice his privacy. After a few minutes of heaving, she managed to throw the trunk skyward at a haphazard angle and dropped herself on the bench opposite Jacob, eyeing him over while he continued to ignore her presence entirely. On any other train ride, she would have much rather found the company of her usual friends, but after what her mother had said, she was a little more hesitant to abandon Jacob as quickly as she had originally planned. She knew that if she were in his place, she would want some support from any familiar face she could find. Despite this intuition, Jacob threw her a irate glance as she settled herself comfortably on the bench, mirroring his position against the cushioned walls that rumbled slightly with the movements of the train.

“I’m serious, I don’t want you here. I’d like some peace before I’m thrown into the spotlight.” Jacob said. His voice was still steady and quiet, but Ophelia knew it would take very little provocation for him to snap at her properly.

“I’m sure Dumbledore won’t make a big deal about your returning, he’s been very sympathetic to your situation. And I’m not leaving.” Ophelia shuffled even deeper into her seat as if to make her point all the more clear. Jacob rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to his book. As Ophelia watched Jacob, she realized he wasn’t just reading, but was also writing, his cramped unreadable scrawl familiar even at an angle. She supposed he must have found a new journal to take his notes in, although she had no idea what he was writing about now, given he was wildly out of touch with the state of the cursed vaults and the world around him. After a few more minutes of silence, during which Ophelia watched Jacob intently while Jacob made every effort to pretend she wasn’t there, Ophelia spoke up again.

“Listen, I think maybe we got off to a rocky start, but I want to start fresh. I want to make this year as compatible as possible.” Ophelia said, putting on her most conciliatory tone. She cringed internally, acutely aware of how much she had sounded like her mother in that moment.

“You literally just barged into my carriage unannounced and unwelcome, so I’d say the rocks are leaning more towards you,” Jacob replied, flipping the page of his journal with a little more force than was necessary. Ophelia opened her mouth to argue, but decided better of it, and continued without addressing his valid point.

“I want to work with you from now on, as both a sister and as a cursebreaking partner. If we can manage that, I’d also like to be friends. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable thing for me to ask of you.”

“I’d rather work alone,” Jacob said, throwing her a glance as he turned the page again, his hand never stopping in its scrawl across the journal pages.

“Yeah, and look at where that got you before,” Ophelia snapped, starting to lose her patience with Jacob’s stubborn aloofness. He shot her another glance, his eyebrow raised testily. Ophelia rushed to continue. “I mean, we’ve both tried to work alone, and it nearly got both of us killed. Even if its not as cursebreakers, I’d like to be a team.” Jacob returned to his reading. He didn’t answer, but it was clear he was contemplating her words, his writing stalling every now and then.

“Ok, how about a deal then,” Ophelia said firmly, leaning in her seat to address him more directly. Jacob finally turned fully towards her, eyeing her warily but with a hint of curiosity. “Tell me everything that I’ve missed. No more secrets, no more riddles, no more puzzles because Merlin knows it would just be so much faster if I just had the facts. In exchange, I’ll give you space. We don’t have to eat together, or study together, or even for the most part pretend we’re related in public. However, I want that door to be open; we can still come to each other for help. I’ll always be there for you if you need me, and if I respect your boundaries, I’d like to have the same option.”

Jacob was quiet for another minute, and Ophelia was practically biting her tongue to stop herself from trying to work a faster response from him. Finally, he closed his books, turned to her, and nodded. “Ok, that sounds fair, and I can work with that. I feel otherwise you’d be glued to my side for the rest of the year.” Ophelia beamed, practically bouncing with excitement at this rare show of civil diplomacy for him. Jacob looked as though he was fighting to reciprocate her show of glee, but his mouth did subtly tug at the corners as he readjusted himself for what was bound to be a long conversation. “Ok, where do you want to start?”

“I want to know exactly where you’ve been the last few years. Olivia said you were only in the vault for about 5 years, so that’s 2 years you’ve been hiding from me and mum. You owe me that much.” Ophelia said quickly, barely able to hold back her excitement. Jacob hesitated, his mouth hanging open a little bit as he considered where to start.

“This stays in this carriage, right? I’m not exactly proud of what happened during that time and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell your gaggle of friends as soon as you can. Can I trust you?”

“Yes, definitely,” Ophelia said, nodding fervently. She hadn’t really intended on telling her friends this stuff anyways unless it become explicitly pertinent to a dangerous situation. Whatever Jacob was about to tell her would stay with her alone. “Oh, actually, I have a peace offering!” Ophelia said suddenly, jumping up from her seat again, and nearly knocking Jacob backwards from her. She turned to face her trunk at eye level and snapped it open, not quite committing to hauling the entire trunk back down to go through it.

After a minute of rifling through the contents, she withdrew a small black journal, bound tightly in a leather cord that wrapped around it several times. She had honestly completely forgotten that she still had Jacob’s old journal in her possession, but now was probably as good a time as ever to present it to give it back. As long as they were working to be on equal footing, he at least deserved to get his share of the work back in his hands. She held it out to Jacob, who grabbed it quickly as he recognized the small book, his eyes wide as he flipped through the yellowed, ink-filled pages.

“What the fuck have you done to my notebook?” Jacob asked a few seconds later as he pulled apart the pages inside, seeing Ophelia’s notes and addendums scrawled alongside his own writings. Some notes were her interpretations and ideas of what Jacob had noted, but others were simply attempts at translating his terrible handwriting. Ophelia grimaced, suddenly remembering how much she had vandalized the journal while it had been in her possession, but Jacob’s frustration seemed to quickly wane as he continued to thumb through his old notes. He even nodded appreciatively at some of Ophelia’s collaborations, although his emotions and movements were still so subtle and repressed that Ophelia couldn’t really be sure.

“I know I left it behind as a key to the vault of fear, but I guess I never anticipated that you would actually read through it, let alone write in it,” Jacob mused, tucking the book under his current journal. 

“Oh, I’ve got your old wand as well!” Ophelia cried again, reminded by the mention of the other clue Jacob had left behind in the first cursed vault she had defeated. She gingerly pulled out the broken wand from deep under the robes at the bottom of her trunk, which she had since tried to bind together with spellotape to keep the ends together. She handed this to Jacob as well, who took it with far more caution than he had the journal.

“This isn’t my wand, actually,” Jacob murmured, looking over the snapped wand.

“It’s the wand I found in the first vault. I thought you had to snap your wand to get into the vault of fear,” Ophelia said quizzically, finally snapping her trunk shut and dropping back into her seat. She was leaning forward so far that she was almost at the edge of her seat, eager to finally hear Jacob’s full story.

“Don’t you remember what Ollivander said? My wand was snapped and confiscated when I was expelled.” Jacob quietly spun the wand between his fingers, caught somewhere between fond and painful recollection. “This, ah… this is my friend Duncan’s wand, actually…”

“Duncan Ashe?” Ophelia blurted out a little too loudly, but fortunately the drawn shades seemed to mute their conversation to the few passengers in the corridor. Jacob raised a surprised eyebrow at Ophelia’s knowledge of his old friends, but after a second of rapid fire thinking, he seemed to come to a conclusion on his own.

“Oh right, I probably mentioned him by name a few times in my journal. While we’re establishing boundaries, I am going to have to put that off limits as well.” Ophelia nodded silently. She had in fact come across Duncan in more ways than one, some of which Jacob might not even be fully aware of. Jacob continued in her silence. “When I was expelled, I still had his wand from after the accident, and I was using it while I was working in Knockturn alley for a bit, just to keep under the radar. I figured I wasn’t going to be able to get an honest wand anywhere else with the charges on my head, and although Duncan’s wand was never mine, it worked well enough… Red oak and dragon heartstring, swishy.” He looked up at Ophelia, who was watching him with rapt attention. She had never known that he had worked in Knockturn alley, although that certainly may have been where the rumors of him being a dark wizard may have sprung from. Madame Rakepick had taken her to Knockturn alley once or twice during her tenure as professor, and Ophelia was sure from those experiences that if anyone wanted to lay low, Knockturn alley would be a good place to keep out of the way of prying eyes and prying ears.

“So… when did you put the wand in the vault then? How long did you go without a wand before… the whole getting trapped?” Ophelia asked, careful not to overstep with Jacob. She was amazed her was actually complying with her and sharing his past, and she knew any wrong step would silence him again in a heartbeat. Jacob sighed, still handling the old snapped wand idly as he spoke.

“I had to open the vaults we knew about in reverse order so I could leave the clues for you. I knew Liv was trapped in the dragon vault almost immediately after what happened to Duncan. I think she was trying to make it up to me. Even though she’s in prison, I still feel bad for how she tried to help… I wish she hadn’t….” Jacob was silent again for a few more minutes, and Ophelia had to bite her tongue again to stop herself from egging Jacob on. Eventually, Jacob continued.

“I put the portkey and the sweater in the forest vault for you. I wasn’t sure how to clue you into the house elves without sticking one in altogether, but that sweater wasn’t too bad for my first pass at knitting I suppose… Then the arrow and the map in the vault of fear. Again, cartography isn’t exactly my forte, but I was working in a bit of a rush at this point. Finally, I snapped Duncan’s wand and put my journal in the ice vault for you to find. After that, I went to the dragon vault to free Liv. I stole the first wand I could get my hands on in the castle before getting to the kitchens, but I knew if I played my cards right I wouldn’t need the wand for long. All I really needed was a house-elf. I had placed the exit portkey in the last vault, so I only had the means to enter the vault, but ideally I could get the house elf to apparate us out of the vault when we were done. Had to stun him, obviously, so he didn’t run off too early-”

“-You… you _what?_ You stunned a house elf?” Ophelia gawked, looking at Jacob with confusion and revulsion. She knew Jacob was somewhat impassive at most times and saw himself above the rules, but she had never expected him to be that level of amoral. Jacob looked over at her, his brow now furrowed irritably at her loud and abrupt cut-off.

“I did what I had to do,” Jacob said firmly. “There really was no way I was going to convince a house-elf to come with me peacefully, and it was never really in danger of getting hurt.” Ophelia was still reeling at this information, but Jacob seemed to have moved on past the moment, and was continuing with his story. “But I guess the vault takes those parameters into consideration, because it didn’t respond to the stunned house-elf, and it didn’t free Liv. When I tried to wake it up to open up the value properly, it got spooked, grabbed the portkey, and disapparated out of the chamber with it.” Jacob looked pained at this memory, uncomfortably reminded by the mounting failures of his plans. “So I had no exit strategy, I knew there was a dragon somewhere in the dark, and I had nothing to lose at that point. I tried opening the value myself, and… yeah.” Jacob sighed and looked out the window, having come to the part of his story that revolved around 7 years of strong will and contemplation. Eventually he turned back to Ophelia, who was still leaning forward eagerly. “I guess you got the portrait eventually, but I wasn’t able to control how to get it to you.”

“I had to get it from Peeves,” Ophelia said with a sour expression, haunted by the horrible pranks she’d had to pull to get her hands on it, not to mention the year of looking at his horrible self-portrait before she had actually gotten anything out of it. To her surprise, Jacob chuckled fondly.

“Oh man, Peeves is still around? Makes sense, he’s bloody difficult to get rid of, especially if you don’t want him around.” Jacob looked wistfully past Ophelia and out the window again, a wry smile playing at his lips as he remembered the poltergeist, clearly in a different light from how Ophelia had experienced him the last 6 years.

“So… what did you do while you were trapped? What could you do?” Ophelia asked tentatively, cautious of steering Jacob away from his weirdly fond remembrance and back to the less appealing elements of his story.

“This may come as a shock to you, Pip, but I wasn’t expecting the switch. If anything, I almost hoped I might get trapped along with Liv, which would at least preserve me in the chamber until someone could come along and apparate us out again. The alternative was starving to death or eventually dealing with a dragon, and I wasn’t too keen for either. But, I guess best case scenario, in a way, that Liv got out. But also not a great outcome, in the long haul…” Jacob’s face was someone twisted, his feelings towards the whole ordeal clearly at unrest in his mind.

“And then I found you,” Ophelia said, smiling at Jacob. Despite everything she now knew, she didn’t regret anything she had done. She knew she would do it all again for him if she had to.

Jacob nodded, and as he did, his face relaxed somewhat, although his bright eyes still seemed unfocused as he gazed out the window.

“And then you found me,” Jacob replied, and a small grin broke on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHRIST this is late, and in my defense I've been both wicked busy with grad school and the virus and general loneliness and also I sort of struggled to write this chapter in general. I know I wrote Jacob to be as he is, but he's still super difficult to characterize, and writing in-character arguments is a lot easier than writing in-character truces. Also didn't know how to end this chapter after 4k of exposition so i just... did. Low key its been a while and I deadass just forgot how to write tbh. However, I definitely plan to elaborate on Jacob's experiences later!  
> Anyhoo I'm a little less busy for a bit so hopefully I can get some more chapters out before I drown in architectural drawings again. I was really excited for this chapter mostly because it (hopefully?) outlines the backstory for Jacob for the last few years that JC refuses to give us. I'm still active on tumblr at https://cokebottlesanddenim.tumblr.com/ if u wanna see my other stuff O:  
> love u guys, take care, stay hydrated, and be safe <3333


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